Yellow, Red and Blue. Those where the house colours at my
school sports day. Similarly the kindergarten section had all their play
equipment painted up to suit. I’m sitting on the ground, take a shot of rum,
and I am hoisted into the air…sip of beer. Back to the ground – shot – hoisted
up again aaaand another sip of beer. Its 02:00am with a slight drizzle chilling
after a massive razzle back in 1999. Untie Colleen comes outside, throws her
angry eyebrows on and says “You little shits better put that seesaw back over
the Schools wall!”
Greg lived directly across from the school, next door to the
Catholic Church and just around the block from SANCA. SANCA, I found, was very
oddly placed. You had to walk past the bottle store with the cages, down past
the alley full of dope dealers, left past the Hustler shop and then up the
stairs into their offices. There is always a Hustler or Cleopatra’s next to the
Church – which is normally across the road from the pub. So the fine upstanding
gentlemen of the church could receive forgiveness for the sins they are
planning to commit. Odd.
Anyways - off the topic there. So Greg build this little
khaya pub onto the side of the garage, at the bottom of the garden. We spent
many a day and night there. Dane got Brendan coated chunda, Rolf fell head
first out the window and we designed (and used) the most epic beer funnel of
all time. I still recall the first time I met his mother: I was cuddled up to
the Alsatian in the dog kennel (to get some body heat and get out the rain) and
I felt this firm and well placed kick on the ankle – “Oi! Breakfast is ready”.
I slithered out of the kennel, sat up and stared at the figure shadowing the
beaming hot sunlight and I focused in…Auntie Colleen.
She scruffed the top of
my head, jolted my head about, assessed me briefly – for injuries I assume –
and then walked off towards the back door which leads into the kitchen. “Come
on, it’s getting cold”. I wasn't sure if I was heading to gammon or the gallows
but I was far too frightened to disobey. I rolled out of the kennel, picked
myself up out the mud patch and headed towards judgement. I walked up the short flight of stairs and into the kitchen...
I had been I this kitchen before, about a week prior, late
one night. The first night Greg and I became friends. I met him at Nicole and
Leanne’s birthday party. He was the guy holding on the bottle of cheap
champagne, smoking Camel Filters and sporting the massive skater boy shoes. I
was flirting my heart out with Nicole – my first crush whom I never had the
gonads to ask out – and he stumbled up to us. Threw his arm around me, courtesy
splash on my shoes, and muttered “Drink”.
I held onto the lukewarm bottle while he jumped over the neighbour’s
wall and coated their prise daffodils in JC Le Roux churned toasted sandwich.
Around 23:00 and after copious amounts of everything we decided its best we
walk to his house and get some food. He picks up his D cell battery powered
boom box and we hit the road to his kitchen. He served me up with half a block
of cheese with two slices of toast hanging onto either side. Melted it in the
microwave, served on a dirty hand towel with a cold brandy and coke – one of
the most epic meals of my life.
Untie Colleen ran a small guest lodge in town and the skill
set of serving always come out on the breakfast able. Toast neatly propped in a
stainless steel holder, scrambled eggs dappled in cream cheese and black
pepper, hickory ham, crispy bacon, sausages glistening with olive oil and fried
tomatoes to accompany the earthly black garlic-sautéed mushrooms. Me, smelling
like wet stray dog, getting served like a plush poodle. She always held herself
well, always came across so proper and had the most incredible tact. She knew
exactly how far to allow us out on the line, with Greg and I rampaging around
town – but if you went too far out, crossed over the line in the sand – she
would engage the clutch, rip back hard of the rod so the hook tears at your
cheek bone and reel us back in with the coffee grinder. Then beat us – with
the rod…the thin side.
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