In Standard 7, Pat was joined by more English-speaking kids – Avalon Warner, Louise Lombard and Kenneth Harman came along so the teachers had to apply themselves more to the task of translating their lessons. Pat recalls going along to Mr Moolman with Avalon, for translations in his subject of Commerce but after discovering how sketchy his English was, they stuck to their own translations. Both Avalon and Louise completed high school with Pat, the friendship enduring right through to Matric. Sadly, both girls were relatively young when they passed away.
Wilma and Pat lost touch for some years after school but a chance meeting by Wilma with Ernie Nightingale at a caravan park in Scottburgh (Their caravans were parked alongside each other) they once again renewed the friendship. To this very day Wilma calls Pat “Colgate” while she used to call Wilma “Pepsodent”. The reason for this bit of enduring silliness, is lost in the mists of time but even Wilma’s late husband used to call Pat Colgate.
In a school day, periods used to crop up which the English kids did not have to attend – these were subjects like Afrikaans higher, Taalbeweging etc. During these periods the English kids would retire to the school library to “study”. On one of these occasions, a bored Avalon Warner decided to show Pat, Louise Lombard and Kenneth Harman, a new dance which she had brought with her from Durban. She climbed onto the large library table and danced her heart out. With her back to the door, she did not notice the bulky figure of teacher Kobus van der Merwe which had appeared there but she suddenly caught sight of her transfixed friends, who were staring at the door. Kobus simply said, “Miss Warner, what do you think you’re doing?” That was the end of “studying” in the library.
Avalon was a happy-go-lucky girl who was fun to have around but her life entered a tragic phase when her father, who worked at the Lesotho border post, committed suicide. Pat remembers her and Avalon cycling all the way to the border post to have tea with the father and being brought back home by car, with their bicycles in the boot. For some unfathomable reason, the Ladybrand community seemed to turn against the Warners after the suicide but according to the surviving sister Beverley, our folks were exceptionally kind to them during this time. For instance, at Avalon’s matric farewell, Mrs Warner arrived to find that no place had been set for her at the table and she sadly started to leave but Mom vociferously insisted that they set a place for her next to them, which they did. Mrs Warner never forgot that.
Avalon married after school and produced two children but breast cancer ended her life prematurely and deprived the world of a bright, loving person, who Pat still misses after all these years.
Pat played hockey and tennis in high school but didn’t excel at either sport. In her final two years, she was also a drum majorette and went to school Friday evening Volkspele. She recalls that it wasn’t so much the dancing that drew her but the plentiful company. Unlike her people shunning elder brother, she was thoroughly outgoing and reveled in the company of others.
Pat has reminded me of an occasion when we lived in Terblanche’s house, when she raised my ire to unprecedented levels. My room downstairs accessed a short passageway which had acoustics which I enjoyed. I could sing along with the hits of the day, perfectly secure in the knowledge that my secret singing was confined to that passage. Or so I thought. As luck would have it, on the day when I was belting out my very best Frank Ifield impression, Pat was doing something to her bike, just outside the passage which exited in the garage and she stole an unauthorized preview of my yodeling. I don’t know what alerted me to her presence on the other side of the door but I suddenly whipped it open and instantly enraged, I set off after her as she fled upstairs to safety, Gosh, my face was red – both from anger and embarrassment. She assures me that I was doing an adequate copy of the song and that I had nothing to be ashamed of but I still can’t help cringing at the thought of her hearing that earnest attempt at singing of mine. She confesses she used to do some Helen Shapiro, Connie Francis or Francoise Hardy impressions, using her hairbrush as a microphone but unfortunately none of that stuff has been preserved for posterity, so I can’t hazard a guess at the quality of the performances. It’s a case of, was she perhaps the new Petula Clark or just a plain old Peculiar Clark!
In Standard 7 autograph albums were all the rage. In Pat’s album someone had written:
“Pat went out to smell a rose The rose was sweet and tender, She bent down a little bit too far, And “BANG” went her suspender!”
A classmate, Tom Holtzhausen or Tom Dooley as he was popularly called, thought this verse very funny and every time he saw Pat, he’d say “AND BANG!” and roar with laughter. One afternoon at the school tennis courts, Pat was playing against Tom and was running backwards to reach a hard hit ball, when she lost her balance and fell flat on her back, with her dress over her head. Immediately Tom yelled “And BANG” and roared with laughter. Quickly realizing his lack of consideration, he ceased laughing and leapt over the net to see if she was OK. Luckily she had just knocked her wind out a bit and dented her pride and was able to reassure him. She is currently in touch with Tom and his wife and the words “And bang” are still able to raise laughter in their home.
Her Matric farewell was a bit of a disaster with the Standard 9 class making little effort with the sketchy “Op Art” theme which they had chosen. Her own Standard 9 class farewell for their Matrics used a Cape Wine Farm as its theme for the farewell and the décor and costumes were quite lavish by comparison with previous farewells. The photo alongside shows Pat dressed in the costume of a wine farm serving girl accompanied by her date and steady at the time, Japie Olivier. No expense was spared in making the school hall exceptional and the evening memorable for the departing Matrics. The farewell which Pat and her class received might not have been as memorable but it matters little when the team spirit and esprit de corps of the class is considered 50 years on. Pat was able to arrange a really successful and well supported Matric reunion for this bunch of pretty disparate kids, who still enjoyed each other’s company. all those years on. (More about this later)
Pat does not recall her interaction with teachers much. She recalls developing a big crush on Mr Kasselman, who drove a red Volkswagen, in Standard 6. I recall him being a thin, rather nondescript chap – perhaps she felt sorry for him rather than adoring him! She also recalls Kobus van der Merwe despairing of ever getting her to learn touch typing because she just could not get much done in typing, without an occasional glance at the keyboard. All these years later, she’s probably a lot faster typing on her smartphone with a single finger than she ever was with both hands at school. She recalls Willie Nel, who wore specs with lenses thicker than Coke bottle bottoms, who taught maths and science and whose novel way of punishing girl pupils was to get them to select a boy from the class, to stand in for the cuts which he would have given to the girls, had he been permitted. It was a most unpopular method as you can imagine. Even your most ardent admirer would balk at the necessity of taking cuts for you, while the most unpopular boy in class would inevitably become a serious misogynist, if he had to keep taking thrashings for girls he didn’t even fancy.
In her Matric year, Pat was made a prefect. With the benefit of hindsight I believe she would have made an excellent Head Girl. With her leadership qualities, outgoing personality and ability as a convincing public speaker, I can’t understand how she was overlooked. But then, mankind has a long history of electing incompetent leaders – you need only look at the leaders America has had, to realize that. Far from being miffed for having been overlooked, Pat was proud of being a prefect. Her record since school, in rallying her old class for a reunion, speaks volumes of her abilities anyway, so I’ll not carp any further.
In her final school years, Pat started considering what she might do to earn a living after school. Nursing and being an air hostess were two strong possibilities. In Standard 9, Pat heard that Matron McHardy of the Ladybrand hospital was interviewing candidates for jobs as “candy stripers” in the school holidays. Pat took to the job straightaway, despite some of the unpleasant tasks which they had to perform like emptying bedpans etc . There were no hospices in those days and the local Doctor sometimes would book chronically ill, aged patients for months at a time to ensure that they were properly cared for. There was a Tannie van der Merwe who had been in the hospital for 3 years and in that time, had not even developed a bedsore, thanks to proper attention always being paid to her. There was also a town character popularly known as “Af- Arm” Terblanche, a heavy smoker and boozer, who the doctor used to put into hospital periodically, to help dry him out and build him up. He was not allowed his own booze while he was there and the matron would only give him a small drink occasionally, on the doctor’s instructions. His old army coat hung behind the bathroom door, the empty sleeve being tucked into a pocket. Matron noticed alcohol on his breath one day and instructed Pat to keep a close watch on him. Sure enough his constant visits to the bathroom gave his game away. He had a small bottle of something awful and potent hidden in the coat pocket, which one of the blacks had got hold of for him. He was unrepentant when Matron chided him and he laughingly pleaded for a final taste before she took the bottle away. He used to call Pat “Blou Ogies”.
On another occasion, Dr Jan Brand, (Who had written Matric with Dad at Grey College) invited Pat to watch him operate on a kid with appendicitis. He was administering the anaesthetic when the phial with the ether slipped from his fingers and broke on the floor. Pat bent down and started clearing up the broken glass, when the ether fumes caught her and knocked her out. Brand would not have it that the ether had felled her and insisted that she had fainted at the sight of blood. He must have believed his own version because he never invited her to watch an operation again. Still, she enjoyed nursing and completed three school holidays as a nurse. However, around this time she was having problems with her feet and both the matron and doctors were adamant that she would never make it as a nurse, with her foot problems, so reluctantly she quit.
Ironically, the same restriction applied to her second choice job of air hostess – it was another job calling for her to be constantly on her feet. It’s a huge pity that she was unable to fulfil those nursing ambitions because she would have gone far as a nurse, probably ending up the matron of a large hospital. Unlike her brother, she HAD ambitions and actively pursued them but Nature had penciled her in on the big blackboard of life, as a MA not a MAtron, and she had to go where she was destined to go.
On her final day at school, Pat and some friends decided to break with convention and headed for Lilyhoek for an impromptu farewell party. They took along some of Pat’s and Avalon’s pop records (Beatles, Hollies, Cliff Richard etc) and a small battery-driven record player, in order to make some noise to celebrate their freedom. One of their number, Hendrik Gouws had a motorbike so he went off and bought a big quantity of “slap” chips and viennas, all liberally doused with salt and vinegar and a supply of Royal Crown Cola and they made for the big overhanging rock which shelters a little water reservoir and overlooks the idyllic beauty of Lilyhoek. There they played their music and guzzled their junk food in what Pat has described as her best party EVER. It eclipsed their “official” farewell by a huge margin, in providing a memory to take with them into the adult world. No drugs and no booze were present. The setting and bonhomie created by being with friends, were more than enough to create a lasting memory.
Now for the reunion of Pat’s 1966 Matric class. I’ve decided to leave the story more or less as Pat wrote it to me – just a bit of editing here and there but it is best as told by her.
Here goes with the reunion. It was one of the most memorable weekends in my life and a totally unforgettable and happy occasion. The lovely part about it was that no one came with any snooty attitudes or boasts about what they had achieved in life. We all blended together perfectly like a lot of eggs in a giant omelette, just like we had done 50 years before. It was worth every ounce of the effort I put into making it happen. In fact the wheels will soon start turning again when I keep my promise to all who were there: “oor 5 jaar maak ons weer so!” Next year will be the 55th anniversary of the class of 1966 and I am planning to organise another reunion. Where and when it will be held and to what extent, I am not sure yet but I am determined to make it happen again in some form.
In 2015 I started thinking about the 50th anniversary of my Matric class leaving school in 1966, which was coming up the following year. Although I had maintained contact with most friends that I had met up with at previous Ladybrand High School reunions in 1989 and in 2004 (This was the reunion for the Centenary of the school building) I realized that I had no idea about the whereabouts of a lot of my classmates . That is why the search started in early 2015, a year before the reunion.
With the help of Facebook and searching every available avenue I managed to account for my whole class of 30. Six of our classmates had already passed away. I also managed to trace 7 of our Matric year teachers (Kobus and Mariette vd Merwe, Emmie and Ester Slabbert, Johan Cilliers, Emil Jurgensen & Zahn Pienaar) as well as a lady in her 80’s, Nicolene Spamer, who had been a Sub B class teacher in 1956 to a number of my classmates.
When other ex LHS students from other years that I was in touch with heard that I was arranging a reunion for my class they asked if they would also be allowed to attend. I thought “the more the merrier” and sent out an invitation to all who were interested. The response was amazing.
The ideal venue would have obviously been Ladybrand but Bloemfontein was just far more central, accessible and affordable for everyone. So we had the reunion at the Maselspoort Resort near Bloemfontein. That reunion was just meant to be because everything just fell into place so amazingly well. Joan Bartleman helped with the table settings, decorations and flowers.
We even had a “miracle” whose name was Mary. She had grown up in the Kinderhuis and a number of her fellow Kinderhuis people assured me that Mary had died long ago. So I had even made a memorial candle for Mary for the reunion. A week before the reunion I was actually trying to find out where her brother was when I was given a phone number in Cape Town. I called the number and the young lady who answered my call said that Mary was her mother and would I like to speak to her. I could hardly believe my ears. When Mary came on the line I was in such shock that I blurted out “we thought you were dead”. To cut a long and amazing story short I managed to arrange a lift for her from Cape Town with fellow classmate Hendrik Gouws and accommodation for her in Bloemfontein within 24 hours. I honestly think finding Mary and reuniting her with especially her fellow Kinderhuis family was the highlight of the reunion.
Second highlight was reuniting Nicolene Spamer with 5 of her pupils from the 1956 Sub B class 60 years later!! They were Elize v Blerk, Wilma van Rensburg, Martie vd Merwe, Ria Rautenbach (Asbes) and Theuns v Rensburg.
The reunion was meant to be just a Saturday affair. I warned them when I welcomed them that there were no special items planned for the day - just “lekker eet en lekker gesels en kuier”. And that we sure did in abundance. I took along my old school magazines and all school and previous reunion photos and they circulated. Everyone mingled and chatted and no one felt left out or awkward. The only item I had planned was to light special candles in remembrance of our classmates who had passed away. They were Avalon Warner, Louise and Bee Schoeman, Kenneth Wray, Hansie Hattingh, Cora Prinsloo. (Incidentally when I eventually traced the whereabouts of Kenneth Wray after a search which took a year, I was just a week late. He had passed away just 7 days earlier. I actually cried about that. His wife said he would have been so chuffed to hear from me as he often spoke about his school days and wondered what had happened to everyone. She and her son attended the reunion all the way from Magaliesberg)
A number of us stayed in the accommodation at Maselspoort. So once the official function was over a few of the people had to leave and travel back home to nearby towns and our teachers went home to Bloemfontein. The Kinderhuis clan who were all staying at Doortjie Palmer's house, had their own little gathering back at her house in Bloemfontein. The rest of us congregated at our chalets where Joan brought out a big pot of soup and fresh bread and butter and jams and coffee and we had a matchless kuier well into the night reminiscing and laughing.
On Sunday morning we all met at SPUR for breakfast and then said our final goodbyes after an unforgettable weekend. We are all still in regular contact with one another via Facebook and WhatsApp in fact I have traced and now have contact with quite a number more LHS ex pupils from other classes. So my planned reunion in 2021 will hopefully see quite a few new faces.
Sadly our class of 66 head boy, Martiens Lindeque and teachers Ester Slabbert and Kobus van der Merwe, have passed away since our reunion. Two others from our class are lost to us because of Alzheimer’s.
In December 1966, Pat started working at Barclays Bank. Jobs were scarce at the time – the banks, the Post Office and Co-Op were the bigger employers and they did not have many vacancies. Her first manager was Gus Roome and her accountant, Japie Cronje. The latter had his little joke with her by asking her to fetch him Form Zero from the stationery room – a euphemism for a toilet roll. I don’t think Pat was impressed with his brand of humour. She started off in the “Waste Department” and one of her duties was to swap cheques with the other local banks, a process known as clearing. Her first clearance was at Volkskas where she was asked to “parafeer” the schedule she had ticked off. She assumed the Volkskas chap was being arrogant or flippant by using only Afrikaans terminology with which she was unfamiliar, so she turned her back on him and marched back to the branch, indignant as could be. When she got back, Cronje wanted to know what had happened at Volkskas. She told him that the Volkskas clerk had been rude and said that “Jy moet parafeer”. Japie smiled and told her that all he had wanted was for her to initial the schedule. Her reply was, “Well, why didn’t he just say so?”
She progressed from waste to savings department, which entailed entering withdrawals and deposits in big black savings ledgers, by hand. Next she posted cheque account ledgers – this time on primitive Burroughs machines. She probably covered all clerical duties which could be performed at her level. She didn’t stay long enough to rise to teller.
Mrs Roome often used to send flowers for her husband’s office. On one occasion, she had arranged a bunch of daffodils in a spiked holder, in a copper bowl. Mr Roome brought the arrangement to Pat one morning and asked her to remove the wilted flowers and re-arrange the balance. She had no idea about flower arrangements and stood sweating nervously in the kitchen as she tried to follow orders. The flowers just would not co-operate so she went and begged the teller, Mrs Labuscagne, to help her, which luckily she could do. After that, Pat confessed to Roome that she was hopeless with flower arranging and could he please ask someone else.
Something else she remembers Mrs Roome for, were her scones. She could bake the most deliciously memorable scones ever and once in a while she would send a tray of scones for the staff. I never met Mrs Roome but that gesture would have endeared her to me forever!
She recalls that single working girls in those days used to put aside trousseau and household items such as bedlinen, in anticipation of a future marriage. So it was that fellows selling items aimed specifically at the “Hope Chest” gatherers would regularly call at the branch. She recalls buying items from the Irish Linen salesman for her bottom drawer and in fact, Pat’s daughter Heather still has an embroidered Irish Linen table cloth, bought more than 50 years ago in Ladybrand.
Across the border in Lesotho, Mr Alf Bamber was the General Manager for Barclays Bank in Lesotho. His son David started work in Ladybrand branch of the bank, while Pat was there. David was an irrepressible, impish fellow who was impossible not to like. He lived with his parents in Maseru and travelled through to Ladybrand daily, in his Beetle. Always broke, he would often touch his Dad for a few Rand to fill up his car but he would first buy a pack of Gunston cigarettes and then fill up the tank, as far as those few Rand would go. Inevitably, the car would run out of petrol and David would have to hitchhike or walk the last bit to town, so being late for work was far from abnormal for him. On one such occasion, David turned up a little disheveled and pretty dusty – his dark hair had a distinctly gray tinge about it. His car had run out of petrol again and he had had a lift with an ancient black fellow with a donkey cart. Pat recalls an occasion when the manager Mr Roome was taking David to task for goodness knows what. He was really reading him the riot act and in the middle of his harangue, David pulled out his crumpled packet of Gunstons and offered Roome a cigarette. Roome was left utterly speechless by this action, turned a nasty puce colour and looked as if he was going to hit David. But luckily he just turned round, muttered something in a strangled voice and stormed into his office where he slammed the door while a grinning David stood smoking his cigarette, not the slightest bit chastened by the tongue lashing he had just received. David eventually went overseas and resurfaced many years later as a TV presenter on the SABC News bulletin. He used to read the business news.
Japie Cronje was transferred to Local Head Office and his place as accountant was taken by a young bachelor, Billy Wellstead. It didn’t take Billy long to spot a very pretty young lady working at Volkskas. She was Brenda Nothnagel, daughter of the area Police commander Lt Col Nothnagel. Billy was badly smitten by her but had no idea how to contrive a meeting with Brenda so he asked Pat to make a plan. Pat’s solution was to invite them both for coffee at our house and left the rest to Billy. They started going out and before long were married, which they still are to this very day. Billy had a pretty successful career in the bank, retiring as General Manager of what was known as the Rural Bank in the day.
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