It’s a Namibian Thing IX

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Here is a picture of my father, padded up & taking tea in his century scoring innings at Oranjemund cricket ground. My mother is seated behind my uncle lending her support to dad’s best ever innings. He was facing an international bowler. Don’t know who it was but my dad clouted him around the park that day! This is the only picture I have of my father at ‘play’. I had one of him in his Andy, a racing dinghy based on Uffa Fox’s ‘Flying Dutchman’ design. But alas the photo has disappeared.

Pictured below is a surviving picture of the Andy called Whiterose, one of which dad built. In fact he and his brother Philip (stood next to my father in the photo alongside) and Aubrey Baker plus assorted help built three of these beautiful boats. They were quick and sliced through the water like a laser through paper. Thanks to Google Earth, I can call up (see colour pic from Google Earth below on right), a satelite picture of the disused garage structure (blue roofed structure) in which they built the three yachts. The garage was situated approx 70 yards from our house.

What I recall about the boat-building is the smell of sawn timber and varnish. One of my memories of those long ago days is about the hours my dad would spend varnishing then sanding it down with the finest emery paper and water. Then repeating this process again and again and again, section by section until the hull of the boat was completed to his exacting standards and showed off the grain of the wood beautifully. Dad was most proud of this aspect of the job.

He named his boat Whiterose. He raced nearly every Sunday but was not the best yachtsman. He built better than he sailed. Dad always seemed to get caught wanting when it came to the start of the races. He always mistimed his approach to the line. He finished middle order or stone last in the majority of his races! Not like Bertie Reed was my dad!

My mum’s brother, John was the first person to sail a craft on the Pink Pan. He then went on to build an Enterprise class yacht. He did better at racing than my father and as the younger of the two, I suspect it galled my dad sometimes. John also climbed Mont Blanc in his youth. But he did not play rugby. My father played scrumhalf, when he was at school and in the RAF.

I suppose this evened the score between the two of them! Not that there was ever any real rivalry between them. This was a feature about my world during these formative years at Oranjemund. It appeared to me later in life that I had a large extended family. Many is the time that if I was playing at a friend’s house at their teatime, I would be told to take a seat and tuck in as well. The adults looked after us kids and the communal spirit prevailed. It’s a Namibian thing.

I have been away too long. I will be back. I need to get earthed again.

It’s a Namibian Thing IX