Spud Read online

  Saturday 19th January

  09:55 The Guv made us listen to a tape of Beethoven at full volume in the change room before our match against Drake College. Our coach strode around conducting the recorded orchestra with my cricket bat. After the piece finished, he told us to ‘Render all helpless in the eternal fight for blinding glory.’ We all looked as aggressive as possible and Mad Dog punched a dent in the toilet door.

  We swarmed onto our new home cricket field, called Godfrey Ellis after an Old Boy who was apparently the first casualty of the Second World War. According to Fatty, Godfrey Ellis drowned in Durban harbour after falling off the gangplank while waving to his family.

  We charged onto the field looking wickedly impressive in our cricket longs. There was a sprinkling of polite applause from a few parents and loud hooting and flashing headlights from a green Renault station wagon parked next to the sightscreen. I didn’t dare look at my parents and walked in an utterly focused manner towards gully (my fielding position). Rambo trotted across from his position at first slip to have a word with Mad Dog, whose run up is now almost all the way to the boundary rope. On the way back to his position Rambo had a few words to the batsman who I must admit looked a bit startled. The Guv shouted, ‘Play!’ and Mad Dog came roaring in and bowled a fast bouncer that flew over the batsman’s head. Mad Dog then followed through all the way up to the batsman and growled at him like a dog. Rambo shouted, ‘Take it easy, Mad Dog! Remember it’s just a game.’ The batsman looked a little freaked out and shot a look at the square leg umpire. The next ball smashed the middle stump out of the ground. Rambo and Mad Dog ran up to each other and embraced in a bear hug, followed by high fives in the middle of the pitch. Dad charged back to his car and hooted again.

  And so it went on. Every batsman got a word in his ear from Rambo and one by one Mad Dog cleaned them up. After a brilliant bowling effort he retired exhausted to the fine leg boundary and The Guv retired thirsty to the Milton deckchairs. Dad fired up the skottelbraai and cooked hotdogs and fried onions. I gave Mom three letters to give to Marge to give to Mermaid. I figured it’s quicker than post. Unfortunately, The Guv and Dad started chanting the Wedding March so I got embarrassed and ran back to the change room. I noticed that Martin Leslie’s parents, who had parked next to the folks, had moved to the opposite side of the field under the trees.

  Simon smashed Drake College to pieces. He scored 91 not out, out of a total of 115. He was literally amazing. The poor Drake bowlers spent the afternoon shaking their heads and shouting at each other’s fielding which grew progressively more useless by the over.

  THE BOG DISASTER

  20:10 Saturday night movie was Kramer vs Kramer with Meryl Streep and Dustin Hoffman (the real Rain Man). It was good to see Hoffman speaking normally again. Unfortunately, the first ten minutes was very slow moving so I ducked off for a drink of water. I heard one of the first years sobbing in the toilet. I tried to talk to him but he ignored me. Then Vern charged in to see what was happening in his beloved bogs and ordered the first year out of the toilet. Rain Man was dead set on reporting the poor homesick first year to Sparerib. He seemed appalled that someone should be grief stricken in his bogs without permission. Vern wrote a written warning on his pad and slid it under the door. I kept trying to stop him but he threatened to report me to Sparerib for bad form in the bogs and surrounds. (I can’t believe bad form in the bogs and surrounds is a real offence actually.)

  Then Vern started banging on the toilet door, before scribbling down a second warning and sliding it underneath it. Unfortunately, he slid the warning into a puddle of stagnant toilet water. While Vern was furiously writing the second draft of his second warning and muttering angrily to himself like Gollum, Boggo strode in from the common room and asked us what was going on. Vern told him there was a criminal hiding in the bog. Boggo said that the only way to drive a rat from its lair is by an airborne bog wash.

  ‘Bog wash,’ gasped Vern like Boggo had given him the cure for cancer. Boggo filled a bucket of water and hurled it over the toilet door. There was a crash and a splash and then silence. Vern banged viciously on the door again and demanded that the criminal emerge from his hiding place. Then the latch clicked and Eunice, the African lady who cleans the bogs, staggered out crying her eyes out and holding a drenched letter in her shaky hands. My heart sank. I felt like crying. I heard Boggo saying, ‘Oh shit!’ Vern and I said nothing as Eunice shuffled past us and disappeared out through the house door. There was a loud thunk as Vern ripped out a knot of hair. The only other sound was the hum of the neon bog lights.

  As if all the guilt isn’t enough, Anderson was hanging around outside the house drinking tea and saw what happened, so now we’re in serious shit as well. Anderson says we have to apologize to Eunice in writing. (Vern started right away on his notepad.) We also have to do an hour of hard labour in Eunice’s vegetable garden at a time that suits her best. Boggo said there was no way in hell he would do hard labour for black people and stormed off back to the common room.

  Feeling like I’m a traitor to the Struggle and it’s not even my fault. I tried to find Luthuli for a chat but he was in Johannesburg giving a speech so I returned to the common room to watch the movie. It’s all about divorce which made me think of Mermaid. I ducked out again and called her but Marge said she was out with friends. Then I imagined her out with other boys and got insanely jealous, so I told Death Breath I had a headache and went to bed.

  Sunday 20th January

  After chapel I sprinted across the quad in an attempt to get to the dining hall before Fatty. (Halfway through Reverend Bishop’s sermon on fish and wine, Fatty announced that he was ravenous and that he was planning to eat our table’s entire bacon ration.) I was stopped in my tracks by a loud screech, followed by a squeal of joy. Julian was back!

  Julian galloped over to me with a look of horrified panic on his face. I said, ‘Hello.’ Julian squealed again and jumped for joy because my voice hasn’t broken yet. He reckons the choir is touring Johannesburg at Easter. He waved his finger at me, rattling the bracelets on his arm, and said, ‘May God help you if your balls drop an inch!’

  Monday 21st January

  The morning headline read…

  SHORTFALL!

  The entire front page was devoted to Alexander Short’s dad, who has been arrested for fraud, embezzlement and money laundering. The newspaper said that further charges against Hugh Short would be added once further investigations have been concluded. They also mentioned Alexander and the school and made his dad sound really dodgy. When Rambo read the story he thumped his hand onto the couch and said, ‘This is exactly what we need. The Crazy Eight now has a criminal!’ Boggo and Fatty were so excited about the idea of hanging out with a criminal’s son that they led us all down to the san after breakfast. Sister Collins came to the door waving her arms and shouting, ‘Too late! Too late!’ She wouldn’t let us in.

  We only discovered at break that when Sister Collins was shouting, ‘Too late!’ she didn’t mean that visiting hours were over. It was because Alexander Short has left the school because his father has been liquidated. Fatty said liquidating is some kind of Chinese water torture but he was lying because I overheard Death Breath saying it had something to do with freezing money.

  After spending four days at school and one night in the dormitory, Alexander Short was gone but not forgotten. He already had three nicknames and was famous throughout the school. He is now known as:

  Alexander Short Of Cash

  Alexander Short Stay

  ASS

  Rambo said that Alexander Short Stay would always be an honorary Crazy Eight member and that he had added yet another mystery to the Crazy Eight.

  Once again Gecko’s bed lies empty.

  12:00 Had our first double drama lesson with Viking who is as wild and scary as ever. He made an aggressive speech where he compared the theatre to the Mafia. He said the director is the drug lord of the theatre while the actors are the mules that smu
ggle the drugs overseas. Boggo got excited and asked Viking if he was a drug addict. Viking hit him on the head with a lever arch file and locked him in the costume room for over an hour.

  Still no news from Mermaid – she hasn’t returned my call or written me a letter. I hope she hasn’t given up on me because I’m nearly a fifteen-year-old spud! I wonder if she thinks I’m a freak or a transvestite or something?

  Tuesday 22nd January

  Called Mermaid but there was no reply.

  Boggo says Sparerib is livid that Alexander Short Stay has left the school and thinks the Crazy Eight is cursed. He’s said to be furiously looking for a replacement for our dorm.

  14:00 For the second time in just over a year we had cops in the Crazy Eight dormitory. This time it was investigators who had come to search through Short Stay’s clothes and belongings. Most of his clothes were still in his trunk and they didn’t find any clues. (Fatty and Boggo had already searched his stuff last night although they were probably looking for food and porn.) The detectives under the wonky eye of our housemaster smashed open Short Stay’s locker.

  Everything that belonged to ASS has been removed by the detectives. It almost feels like a bizarre dream that never really happened.

  The first years’ period of grace is now over. Poor bastards have to start slaving! Unfortunately, Anderson says the Crazy Eight have to keep away from them for at least another week or he’ll beat us all to death.

  Wednesday 23rd January

  Feeling homesick. Called home but Mom said she was on her way out. In desperation I phoned Wombat for a chat but she thought I was a Jehovah’s Witness so she told me she was Jewish, shouted, ‘Yom Kippur! Yom Kippur!’ and hung up.

  Had our first Adventure Club class today with first team rugby coach Mr Hall. He outlined our missions for the first two terms. These include abseiling, mountain climbing, survival techniques, bush cooking and first aid. In the second term we are all going on a three-day adventure hike unattended by teachers! Mad Dog reckons it will be the first time he passes a subject on higher grade.

  14:30 Choir auditions. I’ve been made head of the spud (treble) section. The bad news is that I have no responsibility whatsoever except for sitting at the end of the row. Further embarrassment is that I’m now the only second year in the spud section and the only member of the Crazy Eight in the choir. (Fatty auditioned but got the flick again. He looked quite upset so Julian told him he could be a reserve in case one of the tenors died.)

  21:45 Rambo held Vern down while Mad Dog cut off Potato’s other ear. Poor Vern was so distraught he burst into tears and spent half the night trying to tie Potato’s ears back on with fishing line. I was too homesick to feel sorry for him.

  I dreamed about saying goodbye to Mermaid at a train station. (I hope this doesn’t mean that she’s leaving me.)

  Thursday 24th January

  06.30 I GOT A CALL FROM MERMAID!!!! Just when I thought it was all over, she phoned to say she loves me and that she’s been really busy with stuff. She said her friends had entered her in the Miss Teen Durban beauty contest but that she didn’t think she would go for it. She loved my letter about Alexander Short Stay and promised to send one back today or tomorrow.

  Speaking to my Mermaid made me a lot happier and suddenly I wasn’t homesick anymore. Rambo said I needed to stop being so pussy whipped. I nodded in agreement although I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

  14:30 Bad news is that my bowling has gone from terrible to appalling. Somehow I managed to bowl a ball that bounced three times before it reached the batsman. (Simon smashed it over the railway line.) I must have lost my confidence because every time I run up to bowl I feel embarrassed. (My bowling insecurity wasn’t helped by Mad Dog screaming ‘Incoming donkey drop!’ every time I let the ball go.) After bowling about my tenth wide of the afternoon The Guv took me aside for a chat. Trying to score a little sympathy, I told him that I haven’t been feeling myself lately. The Guv studied me over the top of his specs and said, ‘Well, then whom may I ask have you been feeling of late?’ He roared with laughter and told me I was becoming ‘a bit poncy’. I steamed off back to the bowler’s end determined to prove him wrong but got hit over the railway line again with my very next ball.

  Friday 25th January

  11:00 I made the cricket side again for tomorrow’s game against Westwood College. I hate making the trek to the dining hall every Friday to check the team lists – imagine if I was dropped? Rambo would never let me forget it.

  Double art class with Mr Lilly turned into a complete circus. Poor Lilly is terrified of Rambo, Boggo and Fatty so he seems to direct all his teaching at me. I’m afraid art isn’t one of my specialties (I can only do stick figures) but I tried to look as professional as possible with a good selection of sharpened pencils carefully placed out on my desk. Lilly instructed us all to draw a picture of something we loved. Fatty drew a hamburger, Boggo drew a huge pair of breasts, Rambo drew himself and Vern did a splendid picture of Roger. I tried to draw the Mermaid but halfway through I realized that my picture didn’t look like the Mermaid, or any human for that matter, so I changed it into a strange looking tree with big boobs. Lilly was thrilled to see that Vern has a talent for drawing and asked him to sketch a self-portrait.

  Vern set off with his pencils and his tongue sticking out the side of his lips and drew another picture of Roger. Lilly didn’t know what to say so he applauded and told us that Vern was an impressionist. Not sure if Vern can only draw Roger or if he genuinely thinks he is Roger – either way it’s a worry.

  Spent the whole afternoon practising my bowling in the nets. The Guv told me to place a handkerchief on the spot where I wanted the ball to land and see how many times I could hit it. Unfortunately, after about half an hour of nonstop bowling I hadn’t got near the hanky once (except for a ball that hit it on the third bounce). I decided to try a swimming towel instead of the hanky to build up my confidence, but I missed that ten times in a row so gave up and went to the tuck shop instead.

  Saturday 26th January

  This time we had to travel to Westwood College for our cricket match. Mad Dog was so excited that he pulled one of the windows out of the bus, making it easier for him to bark at people on the road. We were all intrigued to see if Westwood’s opening bowler (the one with a car) was still playing for them or whether he had died of old age.

  We arrived to find the Westwood opening bowler (the one with the car) sitting outside the change room reading the Weekly Mail while a small boy sandpapered his bat. Dad was there. He did a war dance around the front of the bus as it came to halt. Unfortunately, it was the under 14 bus in front of us and all the first years looked terrified and refused to disembark until Dad had moved off to a safe distance.

  I glanced across at the green station wagon and saw four deckchairs laid out. (Usually there are only three.) My heart did a triple somersault as I suddenly thought that the folks had brought the Mermaid with them, but then my fantasy exploded as a great shock of purple hair emerged from the back seat. Wombat!!

  I tried to look the other way and duck off to the change room, but there was a loud screech of ‘David!’ so I thought it best not to ignore her in case she followed me into the toilets. I felt everyone staring as I skulked up to her. Wombat’s face fell as I approached and she turned to Mom and said, ‘Oh dear. He’s looking more and more like his father. Isn’t there anything we can do?’

  Back in the change room everyone wanted to know why Wombat had purple hair and called me David. I told them she was certified mad in 1977 and that she had murdered her brothers and sisters when she was a child. (This was a lie but I needed to try and prevent anyone going up and talking to her.) Mad Dog looked wickedly impressed that my grandmother was a psychopath.

  Thankfully I didn’t have to bat or bowl and Simon and Mad Dog thrashed Westwood single-handedly. The folks left soon after lunch because Wombat was getting drunk and disorderly.

  Sunday 27th January


  The choir sounded brilliant during the morning Eucharist. While disrobing in the vestry afterwards, Julian complimented me on how fabulous my spud section sounded. He then slapped St John Lyle (the tenor leader) on the bum and told him the tenor harmony on How Great Thou Art was a disgrace and that the tenors would not tour unless they became radically less diabolical. St John Lyle (who everyone calls Sin-gin) looked terribly upset and stuttered and stammered in protest while his glasses steamed up.

  I called Mermaid to find out how her beauty contest went. Her mom said she was out with friends celebrating her being crowned Miss Teen Durban ’91! I was so excited my hands went all shaky. My girlfriend is a beauty queen and a supermodel. I must be the luckiest guy in the world!

  I called again after supper but Marge said Mermaid was sleeping at a friend’s house.

  20:00 African Affairs (AA) Society Meeting. There were no new people at the AA meeting so I’m still the youngest. Luthuli was voted in as chairman. Linton Austin, who’s back for post-matric until he goes to Cambridge in August to study economics, was made treasurer. Gerald nominated himself for everything but didn’t win anything. Obviously the society hasn’t forgiven him for his blunder last year when he said apartheid wasn’t such a bad thing before denying that he’d ever said it.

  I was very chuffed when I was voted in as AA secretary. This was until I discovered that my job is to keep the minutes. (Basically, I have to write down what everyone says and read the previous week’s minutes back at the next AA meeting.) This is my second leadership position that requires absolutely no leadership. At least Vern can report people for wasting toilet paper!

  Monday 28th January

  Mermaid was on the front page of the morning paper. She looked beautiful, with a small crown on her head and her big blue eyes filled with tears of joy. The caption under it said: DURBAN’S SWEETHEART. Boggo stuck a copy on the house noticeboard. Underneath he wrote MRS SPUD with an arrow pointing at Mermaid’s cleavage. Boggo then photostatted another copy which he said was for his personal files. I charged off to call Mermaid but her brother said she was being interviewed by the Northglen News and couldn’t come to the phone. I called Mom who had already heard the news and was in the middle of a celebratory champagne breakfast with Dad.