A holiday in Mauritius.

At the end of my last post on this blog (over one year ago!), I said that I had no photos of my home in Johannesburg, or of the horse hospital where I was then working. While looking for photos of Mauritius, I came across a few of the horse hospital, and a picture of the outside of the block of flats, into which I first moved when I went to Johannesburg. Here they are, just to keep you up to date with the story so far.

Constantine Apartments, where I first stayed in Hillbrow, a densely populated suburb just to the north-east of the CBD. As I said in the previous post, even then it was not a particularly desirable area, and I was glad to move out after 6 months!

One of the views I had of the concrete jungle where I started out my new life in South Africa.

The gateway into the horse hospital where I was then working.

Some of the stables where the horses were hospitalised.

The operating theatre, is always a busy place!

Continuing with the next part of my story.....

In 1980, I had decided that I would like a really good holiday, so I planned a trip to Mauritius in the Indian Ocean in February 1981 for 8 days. Meanwhile in January of the same year while at work I had a phone call from a man called Nigel, who had just arrived from the UK. He had quite a strong Somerset accent, or so it seemed to me at the time, and I had some difficulty in understanding him! He had apparently been given my phone number by a cousin of my Mum's and was from Bath. I thought that I had better do something about my social life, so I invited him for a meal. We were instantly good friends and a couple of weeks later, he took me  to the airport for my Mauritian holiday.

What a wonderful holiday I had! We had a bit of an upset on the outward flight, as when landing in Durban en route, everyone was told there had been a phone call and a bomb might be on board! The plane was emptied and all luggage removed, and which we in turn had to go and identify. Several hours later, after a thorough check, we were allowed back on board and we continued the trip to Mauritius. 

On arrival there, the hotel had a car waiting for me and I was duly transported to the Peninsula Hotel, a lovely place sited, of course, on a peninsula on the south-east coast (!), not too far from the airport.  I was soon ushered into the dining room, as they were worried that, with the plane's late arrival, I would miss my evening meal. All went well until I ordered lychees for my dessert; I soon started coughing badly, as an errant fruit decided to take a trip down my windpipe! A young man from a table nearby came over to see if there was anything he could do, and the end result was that I went for a drink with him and his friends afterwards. He was a local and he had two brothers, one of whom was a sugar farmer, and the other was  living in Australia, but at that time he was on the island on holiday. It was arranged that the Australian/Mauritian would pick me up the following day and I would join the family for lunch. It turned out that the family were my constant daily companions for the next 8 days and I was taken to many parts of the island that I would never have seen if I had been alone! In the evenings, I was spoilt by the hotel staff, who put a huge amount of effort into making my stay a happy one, and with their help and one of the South African pilots who was holidaying there, I had very little time to myself. I did manage to find some time to do a little tanning, and I returned back to Johannesburg not only brown, but also fit and healthy from dancing every evening! Nigel duly met me at the airport and took me back to my flat where we made plans to be together the following weekend.

The Peninsula Hotel.  I had a room upstairs with fabulous views.  The weather was perfect, and even in the light rain we occasionally had, it was possible to walk around and enjoy the views and the scenery.

A walk along the beachfront.

The busy and somewhat untidy streets of Port Louis. Port Louis is the capital city of Mauritius and it's known both for its French colonial architecture (of which I have no photos) and the 19th-century Champ de Mars horse-racing track.   Sadly I never got to see a race meeting there!

Part of the sugar estate owned by the eldest of the brothers  I met.

Giant water lilies at Pamplemousses Botanical Garden,  leaves of some of which are more than 6 feet wide!

Since this so much has happened, I will update one day!!

Please note the following update.

The section of our overland trip is published on kindle if you should be interested

LINK

Yet another big change in my life - A change of country.

At the beginning of 1977, one of our local racehorse owners arranged for a South African vet to come up to Salisbury for three days, during which he would perform a number of operations. I was asked if I would like to join the group for dinner one evening, and this proved to be the start of an excellent friendship! I was offered a job in South Africa at his surgery where I would help in the laboratory, assist during operations, and generally look after the horses in the hospital. I had no desire to leave Rhodesia and turned the job down without a second thought. I had many phone calls from the vet over the next year, telling me that the job was still there for me and eventually I accepted, on condition that I could get a work permit.  Meanwhile, Mum and I embarked on a camping holiday early in 1978, driving down through South Africa to the south coast and along the "Garden Route" to Cape Town. We would then return home to Salisbury  via Johannesburg.

My trusty, solid and so reliable Datsun 120Y, with Mum checking out the tent.  It had to be a high tent as with oesophagus problems Mum could not bend over easily.

Mum in the dinosaur park near Sudwala caves in what used to be the Eastern Transvaal.

Camping at Storms River; is that a bottle of wine just being finished in style? Ha ha.

Storms River, a beautiful place on the coast between Port Elizabeth and Cape Town.

Looking down at the cable car from the cable car station on top of Table Mountain, Cape Town. It's much more modern these days!!

What a view out to sea...

and later in the evening, the lights of Cape Town.

While waiting for the cable car to arrive, we bought these two sheepskins from the local vendors.  I still have mine, (the white one); I'm not sure what happened to Mum's!

While camping in Cape Town, our tent was 'broken into'. As you can see, we were close to the boundary fence.  The fence was cut with wire cutters and the back of the tent slashed with a knife.  Our picnic case was stolen, but dropped just on the other side of the fence. Obviously on inspection it was of no interest!  What did totally disappear though, were our tins of food and all my make up!!!  Very frustrating. 

 On our return home to Rhodesia, we stopped off in Johannesburg and I went to have a better look at the horse hospital, which was situated a few kilometres south-east of the CBD. I got to see at first hand what the work entailed and I was greeted with the news that a temporary work permit had already been obtained! My residence permit could be applied for and issued once I had started work. This meant that all that was left to do was to hand in my notice at work and terminate the rental on my house in Greendale. 

The "international" move occupied a frantic couple of months, getting everything sorted out in both countries. My accommodation, a small flat in Hillbrow, just next to the CBD in Johannesburg, was set up for me and on 1 April 1978, I signed a 6 month rental contract. Hillbrow, then and now, is not  a particularly desirable area, especially for a young woman alone and the search was on very quickly for other accommodation!

A view of the concrete jungle in which I lived when I first arrived in Johannesburg. I hated it!

Meanwhile, I was loving my work at the horse hospital and I had made friends with one of our clients, who was also a race horse trainer. This soon meant that I was up with the lark every morning and riding work for him at the Newmarket racecourse, which was only a couple of minutes drive from the hospital. Not only was I more than happy in my job, but I was back riding on a daily basis once more!

The stands at Newmarket racecourse as they were in the late 1970s.  Today, the whole place has been totally refurbished to modern standards and is a magnificent gathering place for the horse-racing community.

As my flat rental contract was about to expire, I found accommodation in Alberton, which is a suburb a few kilometres south-east of the Johannesburg CBD and where the hospital stands. This was perfect for me after enduring six months in Hillbrow!  I was more than happy to move into the downstairs part of a double storey house, owned by an elderly couple who had had to flee the Belgian Congo in rather a hurry during the rioting many years before. They were the most delightful couple and became like second parents to me.

The days just flew by, as I would be up at 04h00 each morning to ride work at the racecourse and then off to work by 08h00! At the end of the working day, I was more than ready to just go back to my downstairs flat, have a meal and fall into bed, so as to be ready for another early start the following day! My social life pretty much disappeared, other than the times when I would take some leave and drive up to Rhodesia to spend a week  with my folks. 

Sadly, I do not seem to have any photos of my home in Alberton or of the horse hospital.  I had no blogs to write in those days and the camera obviously had very little use!!!

The section of our overland trip is published on kindle if you should be interested

LINK

Another life change - a new job and then promotion!

The five years that I spent working at the surgery were very happy and enjoyable;  however, I decided to bring this to an end as a result of an offer of a job by the manager of one of the local veterinary drug companies. The Farmers Co-op had a very large veterinary department and the drug company wanted a representative working there. It was a great opportunity for a new challenge and I was finally employed late in 1977 by both organisations on a 50/50 shared basis, the Co-op paying my salary and the drug company taking a commission on the sales.

Myself taken at my folks home in Ruwa. 1976.  This was my all time favourite  evening dress with an African bead work decoration, the latter still in my possession!

  

This change of job meant, of course, that I had to move out of the surgery flat and I was on the search for somewhere else to live. The cottage out at Brackenhurst with my folks was still an option, but I really wanted something in Salisbury and closer to work. I finally found a delightful single storey two bedroom town house with its own small garden, for rent in the suburb of Greendale, not very far from the Co-op  There was also a car port and an outdoor enclosed area, which was suitable for my cats. By that time, their number had risen to three! A highly bred female lynx point, a non-registered male seal point and lastly to join the family was a Persian colour point.

No 3 Rosena Park, Greendale.  The front overlooking the garden...

 the back with car port....

and the garden, with its typical southern African planting.

Work at the Co-op proved to be great fun and I made many very good friends among the farming community, who did most of their shopping there. At the end of my first year, the manager of the veterinary department retired and I was offered the job! However, this would mean that I would have to become wholly a Co-op employee and the drug company arrangement would fall away. I went into the situation very carefully and decided that I would be better off employed by the Co-op, but the work load would increase by quite a lot. Not only would I be in charge of the veterinary side of the Co-op, but also the agricultural chemicals and fertilisers used for soil treatment by the farmers. Unfortunately, the major increase in the range of products I had to deal with meant I spent a lot of time with administration in the office and so missed much of the personal over-the-counter contact I had had with the customers.

By this time, I was doing very little riding other than at the weekends when I would go out to my folks, but Saturday afternoons were still spent helping at the race course, both with my Dad and the staff at Borrowdale Stud, with whom I had kept in touch with throughout. My life had pretty much developed into a set routine and the next couple of years were fairly undramatic.

Mum and I leading in Merrylegs with jockey Jimmy Anderson to the winner's enclosure at Borrowdale Park. 1977

As above on a different day.  Note the skirt change in length and the white boots of that era!!

Borrowdale Park race course stands in 1977.

My godmother and I at the Kariba dam wall on one of her several visits to Rhodesia.

My Life Before Charente to be continued :-) 

 

The section of my life story during our overland trip is published on Kindle if you should be interested:-

 

See

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/THE-GREAT-1953-TREK-ebook/dp/B008KK0KHU/ref=pd_ys_iyr1

1973 - A New Beginning

The most important thing on my mind after Neil and I decided that we could not live together, was that I had to find a job! The daily journey to Marandellas abattoir, where I had been working, was long and impractical, with no chance of a lift from Dad, who was still working in Salisbury, which was in the opposite direction! If I got a job in Salisbury, we could share the trip and avoid the expense of two cars in constant use. I spoke to Dr Abrey, a vet for whom we had worked in Raffingora and he offered me a job as receptionist at his  practice in Salisbury. His partnership with two other vets, Dr Wright and Dr Sugden, was extremely busy and I found that I was spending, (much to my delight), a lot of time helping in the theatre with operations. My laboratory knowledge from the days with Dr Condy came in very useful and soon I was doing a lot of the laboratory work as well!

The veterinary surgery.  This photo must have been taken in winter (the dry season in Rhodesia) as in summer, the grass would have been green!

After six months I was asked if I would like to move in and live at the surgery, and I would then also be on call for any night visits as well. I jumped at the idea, so  two rooms, which had originally been a rest room and kitchen for the staff, were converted into a bedsitter for me, complete with shower and toilet. Outside, I was told I could put up some metal fencing to form an enclosure for my cat and Rocky, my great dane. Mum and Dad helped me with all the work, and we planted grass and made a small garden.  I had a large kennel that I could put the cats into if necessary, and soon after, with a litter of kittens on the way, the kennel solved a number of issues.   It was very comfy living for me and I soon settled into a routine with work literally on the door step!

The fence we put up, with a fast growing creeper that gave me some privacy.

Whimsy, my lynx point on the left, and Sooty my chocolate point in the centre, with their kittens. 

Rocky, my great dane, taking care not to step on the tiny kittens!

Inside my little flat, bed under the window, sitting area and dining at the end from which the photo is taken. Further behind that was a small kitchen.

Apologies for the photo quality, but it was taken with a Brownie box camera, all I owned!

I thoroughly enjoyed my job, living on the premises and I found many of the night calls  very interesting. Generally, the vet on duty would take these calls and if he thought it necessary for the animal to be admitted, he would phone me and I would assess the animal when it arrived at the surgery. I reported back by phone to the vet, who would prescribe the treatment I was to give where the ailment was not severe. However, for serious cases where immediate professional treatment could not be delayed until the following day, the vet would come in, and I would help with the work. Other than car accidents or giving birth, most cases were able to last through to the following day, thus saving many trips for the vets into the surgery at night.

I would have dearly loved to have taken up animal nursing in a serious way, but Dr Wright looked into the procedure for me, and discovered that at the time, the only place I could train was in England and that was out of the question! Nowadays, there are many universities where one can gain the qualification, and one would certainly have to be qualified today to do the job I was then doing, not only because of liability and insurance issues.

Matius, one of the surgery workers earning some extra money weeding my little garden!  To the far right of the path there were orchids under cover, and on the far left, beyond the bird bath, was  a small fish pond.

My Mum on the left with my father and my godmother, who was visiting from the UK.  They were watching the fish in the pond.  Beyond them are the large windows from the two operating rooms.  How lucky it was, and thanks to me, they had a much improved view!

My godmother who was so delighted to get to meet Ian Smith, the Rhodesian prime minister at the time. A very proud moment for her!

During this period, I still went to the race track a couple of mornings a week to keep up my riding, and of course I always had time off on Saturday afternoon, when our weekly horse racing was held. On most Sundays, I spent the day out at my parents' smallholding at Ruwa, but by arrangement with the vet practice, I stayed home at nights, so that I was in a position to take any emergency calls.

Early in 1976, Rocky, who was by then 13 years old, an excellent age for  that breed, came down with leukaemia. Dr Wright did all he could for him and I am sure his life was extended by several months, but finally his age and the leukaemia took its hold, so before he suffered too badly he was put to sleep. It was a huge loss for me as he had been my constant companion over the last 12 and a half years.

My Life Before Charente to be continued :-) 

 

The section of my life story during our overland trip is published on Kindle if you should be interested:-

 

See

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/THE-GREAT-1953-TREK-ebook/dp/B008KK0KHU/ref=pd_ys_iyr1

Moving house twice and things not working out quite as planned.

In 1970, our neighbours Neville and Wendy moved on to a bigger farm nearby, so we then moved into their house, which had more room. This however turned out to be for a pretty short period, as towards the end of 1971, my father-in-law bought a horse stud, combined with a dairy farm at Marandellas. This decision was made especially with Neil in mind to run it. We therefore left the farm at Raffingora to take up residence in Marandellas, 50 miles (80 km) to the south-east of Salisbury.

All our furniture spread over the garden waiting for loading.

Finally all was loaded on the farm truck.  It just fitted!!  Luckily we had good weather.

As far as I remember, we had a driver for the truck.  Neil drove a van  full of suitcases with his two dogs, and  I drove the car, also full of suitcases and Rocky, my Great Dane.

Our new home at Marandellas. with the guys unloading the truck. Who knew that I would be blogging 45 years later and that diamond format photos are not easy to work with!!

Neil took out his trainer’s license for horse racing soon after arrival in Marandellas, and looked after the Stud and the race horses. Meanwhile, I became the ‘dairy farmer’. When I could, I used to ride work on the horses, but the dairy was time consuming and its hours mostly clashed with the times when the horses were being exercised.

Not long after arriving at Marandellas, I acquired a part-time job as receptionist at the Marandellas abbatoir. The part-time status somehow increased to become full-time , so my days became very full seeing to the dairy in the early mornings and evenings, and then doing the receptionist job all day!

In 1972 my parents left their Borrowdale home where Dad trained his horses. They bought a smallholding of 20 acres with a house and small cottage called Brackenhurst at Ruwa. My father built stables and accommodation for the stable lads, and everyone, plus horses, moved lock stock and barrel. Ruwa was halfway  between Marandellas and Salisbury so it was very convenient for us to pop in and see them. 

Mum and Dad at their new home in Ruwa, Mum with Fredricka the basset and my Dad with a rescue dog, Bernie, that never really did settle into family life!

Opposite Brackenhurst, across the farm road, was another trainer with a sand training track. Dad was offered full use of it for his own horses and that suited him very well. The agreement was that Dad would keep the track in working condition and he would have free use of it. I think that he really enjoyed his trips out on the tractor each day, levelling off the track after use; a very stress free exercise! 

In 1973 Neil and I were finding living together was not easy and in July we sadly got divorced and I moved into the cottage at Brackenhurst. Our lawyer commented that he wished all divorces were as easy as ours; we simply agreed on everything! Unfortunately, although we were good friends and still remain so, marriage together was obviously not for us. Three years that I have no regrets over, but it was time to start life anew.

My Life Before Charente to be continued :-) 

 

The section of my life story during our overland trip is published on Kindle if you should be interested:-

 

See

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/THE-GREAT-1953-TREK-ebook/dp/B008KK0KHU/ref=pd_ys_iyr1