I am going to write my thoughts, the bits and bobs that I remember of how it was for me, during my almost fifty years spent in South Africa.
This entry is going to be a tricky one. It won’t be like all the others, A – S! There is a twist, and mostly, it doesn’t begin with “T”. However it is about travel and it is about South Africa.
Travelling Crib, Trains, Tribute
In my lifetime
I’ve heard the cries
And the mother’s sighs
The rattle of train wheels, the hum in a car boot
Have you been in the hold of a plane?
I’ve rocked at a party
Rolled on the ocean
Suffered all kinds of emotion.
The Shamrock, my birthplace; but African drums
Still beat in my bodiless frame
I was natural in colour
Then been blue, white and pink
More colours than you can think
Ribbons and lace, buttons and pearls, satin, tulle and frills
Such thrills, but can’t complain.
I’ve held pretty girls
And boisterous small boys
Been dumped on with overflow toys
The nursery, the bedroom, garage and loft
The nursery and store room again.
Bought for a pittance
Highly valued by some
My travels had begun
Let’s just say I’ve been around and seen it all
taken praise and taken blame
Acquired for a reason
To keep baby safe
A carry cot crib, I was
For six little girls and seven small boys
Related by lineage, but none the same.
From Waterford shores
To Port Elizabeth’s
Then Gumtree, O.F.S.
Sasolburg, Boksburg , Elspark and Primrose Hill
From Roodepoort , to Florida I came.
I’ve languished in Toti
In Glenrock, near Dublin
Back over the sea’s for me
Now at Trehertbert in Wales, a new baby I greet
Sixty five years complete.
A Tribute to our family crib that has certainly covered some miles since Eleanor and Charles made the purchase which took a huge whack out of the little savings they had put together to travel to South Africa in 1948.