Five Fabulous Friends

It was written in the stars that I would board a steam train and shunt about for two years, making my way from Nelspruit across the Crocodile River, wending my way from the Lowveld to Pretoria every term to attend boarding school at Pretoria High School for Girls.

With a quivering lip, sweaty palms and a racing heart, I lugged my huge metal trunk into the boarding house. I was petrified, homesick and quite sure I didn’t belong there. Coming down the stairs were three pairs of skinny legs in starched new dresses; one dress had already been hitched up a notch. (In 1970, we all wore our hair in tight ponytails or plaits, with an elasticised navy-blue band pushing fringes off our foreheads.) Under those starched frocks, we wore cotton bloomers; our hems were 6" off the floor when kneeling, and never the twain shall meet (bloomer and hem). Everything on The List was in that trunk.

These girls were to become my best friends. We shared the same passage, and our cubicles were close enough to feel like family. Cheryl, Lynda, Jenny, and later Frenchie, became my lifelong confidantes. Our shared memories made life more meaningful, and I hope they inspire you to cherish your own lifelong connections.

Being a boarder suited me, and my weekly letters home were tomes about this new, exciting adventure. I learnt about hospital corners, cream buns, and how to be seen and not heard. I was fascinated by our Head Mistress’s ability to spot a girl daydreaming during assembly, and by how she could bring us up short when she said: “I am speaking to you, and NOT the girl next to you!” I even made my debut as Henry Higgins in our “local” boarding house production. 

Sadly, nothing stays the same forever, and we experienced our fair share of change, too. Frenchie got a baby brother, Lynda’s Dad passed away tragically, and my parents decided to sell our farm and return to the Western Cape. My aunt had been diagnosed with lung cancer and hoped that treatment at Groote Schuur Hospital would be better than at her local hospital in Cascais, Portugal. This decision, although sad, reunited our family with our Grandmama and Aunt. My brother and I became day bugs, and my education at PGHS ended in December 1971.

I was lost, heartbroken and confused. In one fell swoop, I lost the place I called home, the friends I’d made, the people I’d grown up with, and the freedom I’d enjoyed on our farm. We were packed up, and 24 hours later we stopped in front of a new house, a new town, a new province, and enrolled in new schools. Every imaginable loss rained down on me. Sadly, I didn’t have the voice, ability, or maturity even to recognise or mourn my losses. I soldiered on as best I could, which was not sufficient. Like our possessions, our emotions were boxed up, shoved into a far corner and forgotten while we ran the gauntlet of new beginnings.

Thanks to technology, I was able to reconnect with my best friends. Seeing their photos and reading their stories reminded me of how vital these connections are and encouraged me to nurture my friendships, no matter the distance or time.

1957 was a big year in the world. I believe the USSR launched Sputnik 2 with a dog (Laika), the first animal in orbit. The electric watch was introduced. Eamon de Valera's Fianna Fail party won the election in Ireland. It was Larry King's first radio broadcast. The first commercial building was heated by the Sun (Albuquerque, NM), and we fabulous five were born!

All friendships have their own dynamics, with members of the “gang” contributing unique strengths and talents that, when combined, form formidable partnerships. So we have Lynda, organiser supreme, who realised we were about to turn 60, a milestone worth celebrating in a very special, big way. No sooner had the seeds been planted than we set a suitable date. We’d all be there. Cheryl would fly in from Austin, Texas, believe it or not.

Cape Town would be the venue, and who better than Jenny to get that sorted? She is, after all, our property guru in the Mother City. We would rendezvous at the airport, the perfect meeting place for girls from Johannesburg as they touched down. With a feeling of anxious trepidation, I awaited the first arrival, nervously checking the arrivals board and my watch as I gulped my third coffee of the day. If nothing else, I’d be on a caffeine high; that should be an icebreaker. There was no need to worry. With a light tap on my shoulder, Lynda announced herself; I would’ve recognised her anywhere, anytime.

The nervous frisson passed, and we were on a roll. 46 years of separation evaporated, and we carried on where we’d left off on the boarding house steps all those years ago. Frenchie’s plane landed, and there she was, as I remembered her, all smiles. Cheryl waltzed in on a cloud; we were really blocking the aisle in Woolies by then, but what the heck! Not a day older. This was confirmed minutes later by Marion Hodgson Fowler, a primary school pal from Rustenburg (Tvl), who nonchalantly greeted her in passing; we were dumbfounded! The world is small.

On numerous occasions, I had to pinch myself; this was just so unbelievably special. As we shared our life stories, I reflected on how ageing has deepened my appreciation for these lifelong bonds. We shared our greatest passions and disappointments, our heartaches and achievements. We unanimously agreed that our children were our reason for living, and those of us with grandchildren gushed about them, realising that these moments of connection are even more precious as we grow older.

Sixty frees us from following convention, fads or rules. We don’t step on the scales; we don’t check the skies to see when the Boeing passes overhead. We dress for comfort; success is ours; we’ll go grey to make a fashion statement, and we’ll wear red, be it on our feet or on our lips. A good pair of sunglasses hides a multitude of sins. So with a quick brush, swirl and swipe, off we went on our whirlwind weekend.

Tamboerskloof was our destination. Our guesthouse was comfortable, and we lacked nothing. But this weekend was not about chilling out at home; we’re, after all, not the Zimmer generation. We were to meet other old girls, and our first port of call was sundowners at The Stack on a perfectly balmy evening. How nice it was to see Sally and to meet Debbie Smuts, who organises the annual vintage clothes sale in Cape Town. Eventually, we had to be dragged off to our supper reservation at an old favourite, Café Paradiso. There we sat out on the patio, under the stars, and regaled each other with more stories, relishing the titbits Sally shared about her life in Switzerland.

Early to bed is dull, and we had years of catching up to do. In a quiet moment, we pondered spirituality, life, marriage, and careers. We tried to find answers to a universal question: “What makes a relationship work, and why did most of the Class of ‘74’s marriages fail?” That stumped us!

Camps Bay is always a reminder that I needn’t get on an aeroplane to feel the holiday vibe; it’s all there, and on a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning nothing beats a croissant and coffee at one of the pavement cafés on Beach Road. We took a slow meander to Clifton, saw Jenny’s old house, ruminated on the topic, and decided that bygones were bygones. Enough said. 

The buzzword in Cape Town now is “The Silo”, a new boutique hotel on the Waterfront, and we were heading there for High Tea. By the time we’d negotiated the twists and turns of the parking garage, a veritable maze, Judy and Jenni were waiting. Sumptuous is an understatement. The views of our mountain, the harbour, Robben Island and beyond are unsurpassed in their magnificence. Our server brought out a scrumptious selection of petit fours, finger sandwiches, scones, cakes, macarons and profiteroles, sweet and savoury morsels to delight. This occasion called for a toast, and the pink bubbly complemented it superbly. I might not fly first class, but I had my head in the clouds, looking down on the harbour from the rooftop bar, a close second, I’d say!

One would think we’d run out of conversation by now, but no, Sir, we hadn’t, and we could’ve stayed until the proverbial cows came home. But duty called, and once again we were on our way. To spend a quiet evening at home was undisputed. While flipping through Michelle's photo albums, which meticulously documented my missing years, I caught a glimpse of the fun my friends had. They were in stitches reminiscing about their school days - those precious, carefree years, with their growing pains and first crushes. When we all grew quiet, and our eyes drooped lazily, we decided it was time for bed.

Seeing the sun rise over the mountains is a rare treat. On Sunday morning, Jenny, Cheryl and I arose with the Cape Robins, had a quick coffee, then galloped off to see the sunrise over False Bay from Signal Hill. Wow! To celebrate this magical moment, we bellowed our rendition of “I’m on top of the world looking down on creation”, enough to make any Carpenter blush (thanks to Mrs Bolton, we've never hit the high notes). On the way down, we chatted about ageing, illness and the dreadful loss of a parent, being an immigrant, the choices we make, always being an ex-pat, and how we’re only “home” when SAA’s wheels touch down on an African runway. It’s here that we’re not aliens, where we speak the same language, share common histories, fight similar battles, and smell the earth when it rains. It’s only here that Van Der Merwe is a joke and Tolla tells it as it is.

My four formidably fabulous friends, I still can’t imagine why you chose me to be no. 5, but I’ll always be grateful and surprised. You’re my inspiration, my mentors, and the women I aspire to be. You’re clever, beautiful, talented, funny, successful, and unique. When I needed it most, you were my lifesavers, too. I loved hearing about your triumphs, and I salute you for reinventing yourselves and for being brave and courageous. You’ve grown older with grace and charm, and I’m so proud of you. We all have a story to tell; I heard yours, and I tell you, nothing about us is boring. We’re passionate, strong, and versatile. 

Here are some of our beauty/life tips:

1. Cacao butter works miracles (Jenny)
2. A good pair of sunglasses does the trick (Cheryl)
3. Exercise keeps us young (unanimous)
4. A balanced diet is what it takes to be healthy (that’s not rocket science)
5. The jury is still out regarding the cholesterol issue. (Marzipan and Frenchie)
6. Anything from the vine is good (unanimous)
7. Pedicure and manicure not negotiable (Frenchie)
8. If you’ve got it, flaunt it (Cheryl)
9. If our health or quality of life can be improved using up-to-date technology, do so; be    proactive (Lynda)
10. Attitude, confidence and growth can be refined in our Refirement years. Embrace this time of life enthusiastically (Lynda)
11. Cool-Sculpting is an option (Cheryl)
12. Always have a lipstick tucked away nearby (Marzipan)
13. Wear a hat (Marzipan)
14. Remember it's sexy being sixty (Confucius)
15. One's got to have a double-barrelled surname to be discovered

On Sunday we spent a lazy day at Jenny's, enjoying her beautiful home and garden. The boys joined us. Butch got to know the amazing women I always wax lyrical about, and we got to know Terry a little better. Caron and Ingrid, mutual friends of Jenny's and mine, dropped in and joined us for lunch too. There's nothing quite like a long table laden with gorgeous food, flutes bubbling with Moët, friends jostling for a seat, and laughter the only music to be heard. The moment was perfect.

Our time together was far too short, but I’ll never complain, as I’m so chuffed, inspired and in awe of all the girls I had the pleasure of meeting again. You’ll always be in my heart, that special place I reserve for the friends who give meaning to my life. You’ve made me laugh and cry, and you’re proof that it’s not the material that makes us who we are, but the people who cross our paths during our walk of life who determine who we turn out to be. 

We're all safely home again.  I'll say farewell to you, my four formidably fabulous friends, until we meet again.

P.S Monique Grimbeeck Robinson, you were missed; hopefully next time?