It’s All Relative

This weekend Roy and I had a super quick overnight trip to Jozi to visit some family. Roy’s grandfather is 96 and still going strong and my grandfather’s brother is a youngster at 78.

It’s always fun to visit them and listen to stories of Jo’burg pre 1950. It was a much smaller place back then, children used to play on the mine dumps, they pretty much built their own Christmas presents and they used to catch the train to Durban for their school holidays. My grandfather was blinded in his left eye while playing cowboys and indians because the “Indians” were playing with real darts. He looked around a tree to see where they were and bam, one dart in the eye. There is another story of how a cousin accidentally killed three of the local Greek shop owner’s turkeys by throwing some acorns into the pen. Uncle Peter still lives in the house he built for my great grandmother over 45 years ago.

My grandmother grew up on Highland Road next to a girl who was to become her best friend for over 65 years. They spoke on the phone nearly every day until my gran passed away 8 years ago. Since my grandparents are both gone I feel it’s important to keep in contact with their family and friends. It keeps you in touch with where you came from and how life wasn’t always as easy as it is now.

My grandfather, Uncle Peter, Mervyn and Fiver the dog with the plane they built for Christmas.

Left: My gran and great grandmother at Mosterts Mill, CT in 1942
Right: My grandfather and grandmother

Uncle Peter, my grandfather and Mervyn again.

My great great grandparents (grandmother’s side) dopping on the beach. Good times. They’re on the right.

My great great grandfather at work on the mine.

Uncle Peter – Johannesburg, April 2012

Aunty Dee – Johannesburg, April 2012