While in Windhoek in 1978, Bush decided to buy himself a smart coffee percolator. I think he missed supper quite often and found a couple of strong cups of coffee and some rusks made a good supper substitute.
We went to Swakopmund next where, as we had arrived over Easter, the only accommodation to be had was in a little pension called Prinzessin Rupprechtheim. It was a former Red Cross hospital which had an annexe with comfortable rooms but offered only breakfast. We found it adequate and took our evening meals wherever we fancied.
Swakopmund branch was in a magnificent Colonial era German building which had rafters cut to order from wood in Germany which had been shipped out and assembled on the building. There was a generous sized attic up in those rafters which those thirsty bank clerks had turned into probably the finest branch pub that I ever encountered. Bush and I “kuiered” there quite a lot but generally behaved ourselves. However, things had gotten a little out of hand when we rolled out of there one Friday evening late and we could find nowhere to have a bite to eat. We tried the Europahof Hotel on the way home, in case they had something to eat in the pub but all they could provide was two cold pork chops, which we ate despite our misgivings because we were famished by then.
Back at the pension, Bush insisted I come back to his room and have some coffee and rusks with him. At last his shiny new coffee machine would prove its worth. He stood it proudly on a little table in his room and we sat down in a companionable alcoholic glow and waited for it to perform. All of a sudden, Bush fell off his chair, kicking over the table on the way down and knocking the coffee machine flying. There was a flash like lightning and the lights went out.
I sat in stunned silence in the darkness, not knowing if Bush was even still alive. The people next door took umbrage at the noise which had resulted and banged vociferously on the wall. Then I heard a quiet little chuckle from down on the floor and I knew that at least the old guy was still alive. I felt my way out of the room into the lit passage and found the switchboard and switched Bush’s room back on but I fear his precious coffee machine had brewed its last cup of coffee.
I went to bed hungry that night. It really didn’t seem wise to push my luck any further.
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