South african lemonade

[happy daze john in oz]

Wednesday0600 hours, time to turn to, only another 48 hours and we would be back inSouthampton. It had been a rough two weeks on the coast, with too much Brandy,too many women, and not enough sleep; I was in desperate need of some rest.Durban, in the Criterion Hotel on Point Road, a young lady name of Gwen had approached the barman asking if I would be willing to go to bed with her. Sad case really because it turned out all she wanted was something to play with.But Cape Town had been far worse. A ‘lady’ I had known for a couple of voyages had plied me with Mellow Wood and then taken advantage of me on three of the four nights. I had come to the firm opinion that these South African ladies had no scruples when it came to men. They would go to any ends to get their own way with them.

I was working well when at about 0700 hours Bob the officer’s steward in charge informed me that E. Pitt the chief radio officer wished to see me in the radio room. Odd I considered as the bridge deck had it’s own stewards, Ginger and I never went there. I ventured forth climbing the thirteen steps to the bridgedeck with some apprehension, why would Pitt wish to see me. With some trepidation I knocked upon the radio room door. Come in boomed Pitt in a manner that only he could muster. Ah lad he exclaimed, just the one I wanted to see he declared handing me a piece of paper. Congratulations he said with something of a twinkle in his eye. I took the paper somewhat bemused as to what it could be,a telegram, was it bad news from UK, or had some ‘lady’ from South Africa caught up with me?

I opened the paper as I left the radio room still not sure what I would find,then I stood there in pure amazement, the telegram was one of congratulations from the family back home. Since leaving Cape Town I had lost all sense of time and dates. Mick, my assistant cook mate, had managed to smuggle a couple ofbottles of Brandy on board so we had a few heavy nights. But now in the cold light of day it hit me, it was my 21^st birthday!

I stumbled down the companionway back to the boat deck still in a feeling of shock; the day had arrived, the day that at times I thought might never come.Heavy days and nights, had on occasions, made me wonder if even the next morning would come let alone my 21^st. As I returned to the boat deckboth Bob and Ginger were there waiting to congratulate me on the achievement.Then as I made my way around the cabins as I worked the officers one by one also offered not only their congratulations but some much-needed sustenance as well, by lunchtime I was as high as a kite.



36
Thankfully it was my afternoon off so sleep came as a welcome respite from the morning ofcongratulations. Having completed the evening shift I ventured to the Pig for acouple of pints prior to turn in. Not such a smart move I was to discover. It appeared that about half the ships crew were there, word had got around that Iwas 21 today, not a regular occurrence on the Windsor Castle. There were more offers of beer than I could cope with so I just sat back and enjoyed what ever came to me.

Closingtime for the Pig and Mick suggested I should go to his cabin; way down on the lowest deck and to make matters worse was inboard. But I should not have worried, on arrival I was confronted by half the galley crew along with two large bins filled with cans of beer floating in ice. No time to retreat now, in for it in full swing. .

The beer flowed, people came and went, and I was getting dizzy from it all. Some ofthe officers who had been on watch earlier in the day came to congratulate me,and to my great shock even Chuckle Charnley, chief officer made an appearance.
Then came the highlight of the night, Bill Leigh the head chef arrived with my birthday cake, and some cake, a lot of trouble had been taken to make this one.It consisted of a centre made from mashed Swede iced with mashed potato and 21beer can openers on top.

At some point there after I lost track of time and situation to awaken with a headlike a brick at the ungodly hour of 0900 hours, three hours late for turn to.Oh no, not another logging I thought, what did some one not wake me? Gingerthen arrived to inform me that Bob had agreed to let me sleep it off, last daybefore Southampton where the shore crew would take over. Poor Ginger had tomake all the bunks, no harm to him.

Docking day at last, all I had to do now was get my parcel ashore. Whilst in Cape Town I had purchased a case of ‘South African Lemonade’ from a bottle shop in Adderley Street. It was a case of KWV Champagne style wine wrapped in plain brown paper with a string handle to carry it with. Getting it on board had been easy, told the Master at Arms it was for Joe Murphy senior second engineer. Not a problem getting it aboard, but off I realised might be a bit different.

Dad had often told me he would meet me at the docks and on one occasion had made it, too much to hope for that he may be there today. I began my departure having secured my return ticket along with pay off monies and discharge bookcomplete with two VG. As I began to make my way down the gangway I noted a man in a boiler suit, a boiler suit with ‘Bovis’ logo on it, bloody hell the oldman had made it again. Apparently on arrival at the gate he had been allowed in without question, the gate man seeing the logo assumed he was one of the shorecrew. Nothing could be further from the truth; the boiler suit was one from his days of working for ‘Bovis’ a few years earlier. Noting the ‘box’ he took it off me walking a few feet in front and through the gate as if the gateman did not exist. Whereas I had to undergo the usual checking of my case.

Fort he first time in many voyages I arrived home sober, a point well noted by my sister who may have considered it a bit odd at the time, but as she was only 11at that

37
Time Itook no notice. But the comfort of innocence was not to last, it was to end in rather an odd manner. That evening I told dad I was off to the Dutch House,local pub about half a mile down the road from us. Dad then said he would accompany me though he was not a drinker, more of a two-pot screamer. A big mistake as he tried to keep up with me. A few of the lads who knew me were there and very keen to continue my celebrations. By the time it was closingtime dad was close to being a basket case. It took about forty minutes, three lamppost stops and a conversation with huey before he got indoors. There was no way he would make the stairs so onto the front room sofa with a bucket around his neck.

It hadbeen decided that Saturday night we would all go to the Catford Greyhound racing track. Dad’s mate had a dog running there so we considered it to be a good Place to begin the night, the plan being that we would then go home for a party to continue the celebrations. Mum had arranged for my two sisters and brother to spend the night next door so that she could join in the celebrations. The dog, Joan’s Rocket, was a disaster,could not have won with a rocket up its Khyber so we left the track a bit early. Back home we settled in for the celebrations, my great aunt fromSunderland had come south for the celebrations and along with friends and family we had more than a full house. All was going well, family and friends in various stages of intoxication but all having a good time.

It wassometime in the early hours, maybe 0200 or so when great aunt decided to do her party piece. Mother had that week purchased a new hearthrug onto which great aunt deposited the day’s takings, with gusto I might add. The smell was a cross between a brewery and a Chinese brothel, but enough to bring proceedings to an end. The mat was unceremoniously dumped in the back garden, where it stayed for a few days, and slowly the crowd began to disperse.

I awoke Sunday morning at about 0730 hours, dad had somehow managed to go towork, the house looked like the blitz had returned with bottles, glasses and goodness knows what ever strewn around the place. Nothing for it I had to begin the clean up, Keith my mate home on leave from the Chusan gave me a hand. Then as I moved around I came across the great aunt, lying on the sofa in a pose that looked not unlike that of a Pharaohs’ sarcophagus while mother was laid on the bed looking very much like a corpse. Little point in arousing them so it was upto me now to complete the clean up. Keith had gone and I was alone when the neighbour arrived with my siblings, all I needed on top of this lot. Curiosityis often the price one has to pay with children so young. My oldest sister at11, one at 8 and my brother almost 5. On discovering the great aunt and mother they went into a state of shock and I had to do something to arrest the situation. Added to this I knew I would be the one to have dinner to prepare,well there was a chance they may all recover, eventually!

At times such as this desperate measures are often required, time to do something drastic. ‘Hey you three, would you like some South African Lemonade’?
Lemonade,oh yes we would love some. I had one bottle left, saving it for later but there was a need now. Taking three glasses I poured three generous serves giving one to each.


38
The oldest complained the bubbles were getting up her nose, whilst the younger girlbeing a little more refined was drinking hers through a straw, whilst my brother drank greedily holding the glass with two hands. I returned to the kitchen to get on with dinner preparations. It was about 45 minutes later I noticed there was a deathly silence about the house. I went to investigate; mum and great aunt were still doing their impression of a Pharaoh and a corpse, but in the front room sleeping the sleep of the just my three siblings. Wonderful stuff this South African Lemonade.

I returned to Southampton a few days later to work by, I was out of funds.

I realised I had reached the age of maturity, whether I grew up or not was to be another matter.



Except from my book, 'Sailing Blue Seas and Skys'

[Captain Kong]

Excellent John.
Cheers
Brian.