Spud (31 page)

Whilst refuelling in the middle of the night in a freezing Karoo town called Beaufort West, Mad Dog and Steven George got into an argument about the speed of Mad Dog’s bowling. Steven said Mad Dog wasn’t as quick as he thought he was and Mad Dog, well… felt differently. Mad Dog tried to prove his side of the argument by grabbing a ball from his bag and bowling it across the petrol station. Unfortunately, Mad Dog forgot to remove his enormous army trench coat and the ball flew off and smashed the left indicator light out of the bus. Eric was furious and tried to hit Mad Dog with his knobkerrie. Mad Dog pulled out a hunting knife and a blood bath was only prevented when The Guv regained consciousness and threatened to blow up the bus by throwing a match into the petrol tank. After some negotiation, Eric and Mad Dog shook hands and our journey continued through the endless Karoo minus one indicator lamp.

Our 25-hour journey eventually ground to a halt
outside the community hall in Rondebosch under the famous Table Mountain. (We were told that there was a mountain, but the cloud was so thick and low that it was impossible to see anything at all.) The large hall was packed with mattresses and mini-lockers. It seems the schools have all been thrown in together. We collapsed onto our beds and crashed into a blissful sleep.

14:00   Three other teams have arrived. As per The Guv’s instructions, we glared at them with steely-eyed menace as they unpacked and made their beds.

21:45   Mad Dog led our team on a rampaging pillow fight, which resulted in one of the Eastern Province boys bursting into tears and the rest of them screaming with fright and charging off into the rain. We have now drawn first blood and established dominance over our foes.

07:00   Called home to announce my safe arrival in Cape Town. Dad asked how many wickets I’d taken. I told him we only start playing tomorrow. Then there was a lot of shouting and the sound of a chainsaw chopping down a tree, and then the line went dead.

After an early morning net session in the drizzle, The Guv and Eric drove us around the Cape Peninsula to Simon’s Town. Once again we missed seeing the mountains, but we did see seals, ships, a naval base and a weird man with a long beard walking across the road stark naked. On the way home The Guv told us that he needed to make a phonecall and disappeared with Eric into a pub called the Brass Bell in a small fishing village called Kalk Bay. We had a spectacular view of the ocean until the windows steamed up. We spent the rest of the time playing dice and I Spy. Mad Dog had us guessing for about an hour on something beginning
with the letter T. After we had all conceded defeat he told us that he had seen an elf hiding behind the bus. Through gritted teeth Rambo told Mad Dog that even if there was an elf in the middle of Kalk Bay (which was highly unlikely) the word started with the letter ‘e’. Mad Dog claimed victory all the same and announced himself the I Spy champion.

Some three hours later The Guv and Eric appeared, singing together (although singing different songs in different languages). The pair staggered arm in arm through the mud and stumbled onto the bus. The Guv slurred a short verse of Shakespeare and said that his mother sent us her love. With that, the bus lurched forward and skidded onto the road, narrowly missing an old couple struggling to control their umbrella. As we headed back to base camp, The Guv sang an incredibly long and dirty song about a girl called Amelia. Eventually, he trailed off and fell asleep on Eric’s shoulder.

Match 1– Templeton High

09:00   We arrived to find the field waterlogged and, with the rain still belting down, the match was called off and we were taken to the aquarium instead. Leslie and George spent the morning trying to irritate a huge ragged-tooth shark but only succeeded in getting us all kicked out. The Guv then took us to an art gallery where Mad Dog pretended to hump a sculpture, landing us with another eviction – this time from an irate curator who said we were a disgrace to our school. The Guv told the curator to get stuffed and that we were from Templeton High in the Transvaal. The fuming curator said he would report us. The Guv belched loudly and then marched us out of the gallery.

After a lunch of hamburgers and chips at the
Wimpy in Sea Point, we visited the old castle where, surprisingly, we weren’t evicted. I remember the castle as being deadly boring from my last visit and this time proved no different. From there we took a stroll around the harbour. Through the drizzle, I could just make out the tip of Robben Island where Mandela had been imprisoned. It looked cold and desolate and a horrible place to spend half your life. Nobody else showed any interest in the island and soon we were speeding back to base camp.

Match 2 – Clarence High

Play was delayed for two hours before Mad Dog sent down our first delivery of the tour. The delivery was off the pitch and ran away for four wides. The next delivery slipped out of his hands and went straight to third slip. The Clarence side soon rattled up a big total with their star batsman hitting me for three sixes in a row. With their score on 175 for two wickets the rain came down again and the game was cancelled. We did manage to beat them at a fiercely contested game of touch rugby that ended badly when Mad Dog crash tackled one of their players who sprained his wrist.

Match 3 – Cardinal College

Starting to question why we are at a Cape cricket festival in winter, since winter is when the southern Cape receives all its rain (a point that I made repeatedly during my geography examination). Once again our game against Cardinal College wasn’t completed and we didn’t get the chance to see the opposition fast bowlers.
The jury’s still out on The Guv’s infamous intelligence sources.

Match 4 – Orange Free State combined

Today we managed to play an entire game and emerged victorious against an Orange Free State combined team. I took three wickets (glad that I could at last make some sort of contribution to the tour). Simon struck a century at better than a run a ball, leaving the opposition jabbering away at each other in Afrikaans and shaking their heads in dismay.

And so endeth the rainy cricket week. Although the weather has been something of a let down, the good news is that our team is still officially unbeaten.

12:00   The Guv and Eric led us on a wine tasting tour of Paarl, Stellenbosch and Franschoek. After the fourth wine farm we were all as drunk as skunks. My head felt like it was swimming with wine. I was staggering everywhere and I had a throbbing headache. After the eighth farm, I joined Leslie, Simon and Steven George in a communal vomiting session around the back of a chicken run. Meanwhile Fatty had gorged himself on over a kilogram of flavoured goats’ cheese. The Guv bought four cases of wine and seemed hell-bent on drinking as much as he could on the bus before getting back to base camp. He didn’t seem at all worried that we were drunk and mostly vomiting, slurring and in a general state of chaos. He led us in yet another emotional rendition of all five verses of the school hymn. The low point of the day was when Eric ran over a dog somewhere near Wynberg and pretended not to notice.
The sight of the poor animal on the side of the road set off another round of vomiting as well as a few snivels and tears. By now, though, The Guv was unstoppable and he launched into The Lord’s My Shepherd as a eulogy for the dead dog. (Not the first dog a vehicle carrying a Milton has slain this year.)

We got back to base camp, packed our goods and got back onto the bus for the long journey home. We were meant to leave tomorrow but The Guv announced that we were leaving immediately and hailed our unbeaten march through the tournament. We were all feeling too rancid to point out that we’d only completed one game. And so we set off again through the mist and wind and the blinding rain.

From a deep and splendid dream (although for the life of me I cannot recall what it was all about) I was shaken awake and ordered off the bus. Suddenly my head was throbbing like never before. The Guv handed out four disprins to each boy and told us to wash them down with a swig from his bottle of Meerlust Cabernet 1985. Before my watch face froze I managed to see that the time was 03:15. Our bus had a puncture and Eric was pulling out our bags and searching for the spare tyre and repair kit. It was bitterly cold and we stood huddled in a group on the tarmac while Eric worked away at the wheel. After some time we were allowed back on the bus – but the damage had been done. I was chilled to the bone and struggled to sleep for the rest of the trip.

17:30   When at last we arrived at school after 23 hours of cold, cramped misery, stinking of wine, sweat and vomit, I spotted the green station wagon parked at the school entrance but my father was nowhere to be seen. I set about looking for my dad around the empty school
buildings, but nothing – everything was locked up and silent – except for the cooing of rock pigeons settling down for the night. I longed for home, for a bath, my own room… all I wanted was to leave this place.

After waving the last of my cricket team away I sat down on the school steps and tried to read A Dry White Season in the dim light of the fading sunset. The words were garbage; my brain was a washing machine. I closed the book and sulked.

Then, to my absolute horror, about ten minutes later the front gate to The Glock’s mansion clicked open. There was the sound of laughter and cheery goodbyes. Dad shook The Glock’s hand, waltzed over to me and gave me a great bear hug. I was too amazed to remember to sulk. With an impressive explosion, the station wagon roared to life and we sped down Pilgrim’s Walk. I was going home.

I awoke from what seemed like (and was) days of sleeping and felt completely refreshed. After a solid breakfast of eggs, bacon and a bubblegum Super Moo (a new flavour) I headed off to the Mermaid’s with that sinking feeling…

My worst fears were confirmed when I arrived to find the Mermaid sitting in the lounge watching television. She hardly seemed to notice me and while I tried to make conversation she kept her eyes fixed on a soap opera rerun. Then Marge came in with two suitcases and explained that the Mermaid was going to visit her aunt in England for a while. The Mermaid didn’t say anything and just kept watching the television.

Marge beckoned me into the kitchen and explained that the Mermaid was heavily sedated to prevent her from becoming anxious about leaving. Her psychiatrist had suggested that a change of scenery would be good
for her and so she was sending her overseas for a while. I nodded like an idiot and then left because I felt awkward and in the way.

Once I got home I began to feel angry with the Mermaid. Why had she gone mad? It’s not like every kid whose parents get divorced has a licence to madness. If that were the case, most of the kids at school would also be mad. Hang on… most of the boys at school
are
mad. I gave up thinking, ran a hot bath and practised singing my Oliver solos to Larry (my old red rubber bath snake).

Mom looks wickedly worried. Wombat’s doctor has told her to have the cataracts in her eyes removed. The operation will take place on Monday. It was at the exact moment she was telling me that Dad leapt through the door with an old fishing rod and told us that we were all going away fishing next weekend. This set off a ferocious argument, which I avoided by slipping out into the garden to practise my top spinner.

Tried not to think about the Mermaid, who must be in England by now. Does this mean that we have broken up? Is it all over? Is she still my girlfriend?

My school report arrived in the post. Four As, three Bs and a C. Sparerib reckons I need to apply myself. The Guv called me a genius. I’m on The Guv’s side! Dad called me a rocket scientist and cracked open a bottle of champagne ‘to celebrate my results and a swift end to Wombat’. After a few sips I poured the rest of my glass down the sink. I think my liver’s on its last legs after our wine tasting.

Got a surprise call from Gecko who said he was in Durban with his uncle and aunt for the weekend and wanted to know if I was keen to go to the beach. Before I could answer, he said he’d pick me up in half an hour.

10:00   A huge black Mercedes limousine cruised up the driveway and came to a stop next to the station wagon. A black man in a dark suit got out and opened the back door. Out jumped Gecko, grinning like an idiot, and shook hands with me and my folks, who’d gathered round to inspect the vehicle.

I thought chauffeurs were only used by the royal family and movie stars – not pale-faced dormitory mates with rich uncles. While we zoomed along the freeway I asked Gecko how he knew where I lived. He just smiled and said, ‘Gladstone knows everything.’ Gladstone doffed his cap without so much as taking an eye off the road.

The black Mercedes may have been a major drawcard with the girls, but Gecko’s gigantic pink swimming trunks were certainly not. With his shockingly white skin, which turned crimson after about ten minutes in the watery winter sun, and what with my skinny body and straggly hair, we were undoubtedly the biggest nerds on the beach. Gladstone waited patiently in the car while we swam and tanned. Gecko bought us Eskimo Pie ice creams and even tried to chat up a group of girls who told him to take a long walk off a short pier. It’s hard to believe that this crazy dude is the same vomiting coward who was terrified of rugby balls and anything else that was thrown at him. I suspect he might be schizophrenic because he’s a radically different person out of the dormitory. I like Gecko and I’m no longer ashamed to call him my friend.

Had Wombat for lunch. (Not literally – I doubt she would be very tasty anyway!) She seemed totally paranoid about her eye operation and told us that she refused to be operated on by an Indian doctor. She said he would probably kill her and run off with her purse before she’d regained consciousness. After lunch she announced that she wasn’t afraid of dying and then burst into tears. Mom tried to reassure Wombat by saying that she would personally look after her belongings while she was in hospital. Wombat then did a Gollum and accused Mom of planning to steal her jewellery. Mom stormed into the house in a rage, leaving Dad and me to take Wombat back to her flat.