Days in Mtunzini
I don’t think my father was cut out to be running a motel cum drive-inn at that point in his life as he still missed his days as a policeman and a short while later he rejoined the Police, this time at a small station in the nearby and very beautiful and shady coastal village of Mtunzini. We moved to a police house right near the station and directly across the road from the school I would soon be going to. It was in this house that I was bitten by Hitler, yes Hitler’s bite was worse than his bark, our neighbour the station commander of the local police station where my father was stationed was a man by the name of Schenck, he had a large dog, the breed I can’t remember, I was only five at the time, well this dog was wandered into our garden and me being a lover of dogs went up to pat him and he promptly nipped me in the face, alas it was to be the first of many more dog bites. Never believe anyone when they say don’t show fear and then the dog won’t bite, I am living proof that that is rubbish and I have proved that almost every time I have been bitten, I have long since decided that I no longer want to take part in that experiment, but even then dogs seem to insist in picking on me of all people to make a point, and honestly I still love dogs to this day.
Life in a small town has tremendous advantages, once when my mother was at the only local hairdresser I was at home without Noeleen for some reason and I was felling a bit lost, being at home alone when you are only six years old can be quite an overwhelming sensation, well I did not remember the local hairdresser’s telephone number and indeed I had never hitherto ever used this delight of modern innovation, my total ignorance and utter inexperience in these matters was however no hindrance to a six year old, the telephone in that remote town in those days operated through a local exchange, I of course at the time was clueless of all these facts I picked up the receiver , nothing, no mother on the other end, I then rotated the handle on the side and lo and behold a voice on the other end spoke to me. “number please” well this added hindrance was no problem, I stated that I wanted to speak to my mother, which of course to the initiated was really just not enough information, but to my advantage I was living in a very small town and no doubt the switchboard operator listened in on all the conversations, she knew who I was by virtue of the telephone number I was ringing from and had gleaned from other conversations where my mother was and she promptly put me through to the hairdresser concerned.
