The Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief III by Wayne Bisset - HTML preview

The Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief III

Chondre had found a place for us to live, we had a meeting with the landlady and were all good to go. At her house I saw Matthew for the first lime, he was her son-in-law and had the cottage next to mine. We checked each other out, the way hard men do, he looked dangerous and said very little. The day it was time to move I packed all my kit and left Kempton Park. Chondre had all her stuff moved already, plus my stuff that was at Dougie’s farm. The next morning I awoke to a strange sound, it was a horse running around out side. The space, the space. Gordon was our first visitor. I was unpacking my home theatre; it was still in the booby trapped shopping trolley. I had missed one the blades an cut a piece of meat out of my finger. About 4mm square with some yellow fat attached. Taped up the wound and continued to set the system up. Then had to sit down for a bit, stupid little wound had made me all wonky! Finally fished up and we had sound. Pink Floyd, of course.

I was still working a few days a week at gordart Gallery, the traffic was a nightmare, hated the fact that I had to go out there. One day, going into the gallery, with Kathy as a passenger. We stop at a major intersection in Auckland Park area. I person at the traffic light offers free samples, I don’t even look what and say, “No!” Kathy stretchers over me and takes the samples…. Free condoms, for fucks sake! The chap then demands money. I tell him I have none, which is perfectly true. He demands the samples back, Kathy won… See won’t give. Old lady, Kathy is a, born again Christian black lady. You figure. So the light changes and I start to pull away. The guy punches me a solid one in the face! I stall the car in the middle of the intersection, peak hour traffic, mind you. I get out the car, walk up to the guy who is now hurling abuse at me. I kick his ribs in with my right boot. He screams, staggers around a bit, clasping his side, then swears at me some more. As his arms are clutching his injured side I kick his ribs in with my left boot. More screams, then his hands drop to his belt line behind his back. I think, “weapon!” My left hand has my gun out and cocked in an instant, I am yelling at him, that if he moves his hands another inch I will fucking shoot him. By now the traffic is snarled up nicely and I have a very large and irate audience. A taxi driver gets out and I am worried this whole thing is going to end in a bloodbath. The taxi driver klaps the guy and tells him, “Say sorry to the Baas.” I use this diversion to jump in my cars and wiggle my way out of there. Don’t need any shit with the cops. I am so pissed off with Kathy, I cannot even look at her. Free fucking condoms. Shit.

The next couple of weeks were pretty mundane, met Matthew’s wife Jennifer and his two daughters; one was the same age as Jared. I had a little office off the bedroom and Section Eight was doing okay. Chondre must have being happy as she was putting on weight…. Or am I confusing animal behaviour with women’s behaviour? At the Gallery in Melville some of the neighbours had being broken into so Gordon and I decided to scare the criminals off. I took the anaconda to work and strolled around Melville, this got a lot of attention and Gordon told all and sundry that the snake would be released in the Gallery at night. I met another Executive Outcomes chap one day at the Gallery, James. We were surprised to see each other, especially at an art show! He came back the next day with photos and we took a stroll down memory lane.

The problem was the Mexican was bored, money was tight and I do not do well living with another person for a long period of time. As I have said, Chondre shares many of my character traits, and this was one of them. She at least was still attending AA meetings, I got sick of the politics and did not go any more. I started trying to find a publisher for my Chronicles, I had some of my photographic art works hung in Museum Africa, sold more at gordart Gallery. Tim Z bought some sound equipment from me and that helped with my financial mess, and should have being happy with life.

Chondre decided to send Jared to his grandmother again and would meet her in Harrismith. I was not welcome to go with. Gordon has many friends. One, Johan Moolman the sculpture, lives in Groot Marico, we were off to visit him. The plan was Chondre and I would drive up together, stay for a couple of days, then she would leave for home, while Gordon and I would go to Potchefstroom. We were going to hand Gordon’s “Record” show in the art gallery there. We did the tour of Groot Marico and got all the local history, a famous South African writer use to hang out in the area, Bosman? I know that Groot Marico is famous for its “mampoer”, peach and other fruit brandy. Gordon and Johan drank lots of this, I was still on the wagon, as was Chondre. When I got home a few days after Chondre I do not believe either were happy to see the other. We were sort of just sharing space at this time. Our physical relationship was at an all time low. This changed for a while after the following incident. Gordon had a new show opening and Chondre that seldom dressed up, even for work now days, went out of her way to look sexy. She put on my favourite little sundress and took a lot of care with her make up and hair. I am a lucky man, I have lived with some very beautiful women. Heads turned when we walked into the Gallery. Gordon wanted me to do the photographer thing but I asked Chondre if she would like to instead. Chondre was keen and I left her to it and went to speak to some of the people I knew, outside on the patio. I went back inside to find, a chap that I don’t really like, Johnny all over my girlfriend. Like you see guys “coaching” women on golf? Well he was doing it with the photo thing. As I taught the woman on the subject, I do not believe this idiot could tell her much of value. I told you I never liked him. He has a son, a photographer, his name is Rupert, sort of wishy washy chap I very seldom spoke to. At that time I believe that Shanti was living with them already. A few years later they would become involved in my life again.

I saw people watching for my reaction, especially people that have known me for a long time. They were disappointed. There was no reaction. I watched for a while and then went back to my friends outside. I do believe the woman is with you, or she isn’t. A sort time later Chondre came to join me and was very affectionate, not normal for her and especially in public. Love psychology. That and the next few nights were rather entertaining.

Then Chondre’s mother arrived with Jared. She sleep over and the next day I took her to a job interview, the woman is only a few years older than me and we got on alright. I took Chondre’s mom, who is another Charmaine, to the interview in the office complex where my ex-wife used to work. She still worked there as I saw her when driving in the gate. The only way one could see Charmaine and Chondre are related is the beautiful big brown eyes. Temperament and everything else is completely different, and mom drinks like a fish. The biggest problem was any progress Chondre had made with Jared was broken down by the mother. He was becoming a huge problem again. The kind of kid that you are afraid to take anywhere. From no kids to this?

Then Chondre and her mom get on even worse than Chondre and Jared. Chondre would Jared and the grannies “visitor rights” to get her own way with her mother. We had arguments about this. It is wrong, never mind her and her mom, but for the little boy. This mess was getting to me and even writing it now – it is fucking boring. Things just slowly went for a ball of shit. One night I decide fuck this sobriety thing I am going for a drink. I told Chondre and left.  After nearly 7 years without a drink that first whiskey, words are inadequate. I love alcohol, after the second double the world was a much better place. I had one more and then went home. Chondre had run away.

Mike phone twice, so gave him a call. What right did that bitch have to call him? Phoned Charmaine for love and understanding, just got that she is very disappointed. Fuck! Phoned  Chondre and she said she is a  friend – just told her that at least I had the manners to tell her where I was going. One thing that I had words with her about is how she does not like that poor little boy very much, but has no qualms of using him as a weapon. She just did it again Said she had left for Jared’s safety. Shaw! Woke up at 2.30 am. Thirsty as hell! The alcohol only kept my brain quiet for a while, but I knew that. My first thought were anger towards Chondre, not because she made me drink, I did that, but because of her lying attitude. Now, should not concern me any longer. The rest and my actions followed in rapid succession……. Actually relief that don’t have to carry anyone else’s shit.

Two years that I have known this girl have been the worst in my life. No such thing as a coincidence. The Mexican was firmly in the saddle of the new horse he just stole. Needed more drink. Called Chondre and told her to collect her stuff now. I will go out. Looked everywhere for a pub, closed or closed down! Bought a beer. Went to Evonne’s house but no one home. Slept for a few hour and woke up with shit mean headache, droebekkies, the works. Fuck this drinking is kak, but here I sit at 2am writing with a beer next to me. Chondre ditched the kid a day or so later and went to Cape Town, to her brother’s place. Hoping today I will stop this drinking jol. Not to be, bottle store for quart of Reds. Oh shit will I pay the rent or go joling? Phoned Evonne, shit she is in Eastern Cape. Told her I am drinking, and she is actually unhappy to hear that. Said she always looked up to me. And while I know the bottom line it is my own fault that I am drinking, I also curse every single person that helped me get back here. Eventually got my ass to meeting. Eric phoned afterward and kaked on me. Phoned Chondre and she was extremely detached, asked her give me some sign that there is hope and she said she can’t. Told her collect the stuff now and I will go out. Bought a more beer, got pissed quickly. Stupid bitch put rent money in my bank. So went and bought cheap wine at Spa. So too late to stop this mission. Bang, bang. Where will I find the money? Will I come off this jol?. .38 one inch closer. Tried not to, but ended up buying a bottle of vodka. I think apart from Chondre not really caring for me, she is also making me depressed. I don’t like living with a kid or a mother.

Phone call it is my aunty Pam. She feels bad cause she has not prayed for me. Got an order for radios from Lily Pond. Killed the vodka. A lovely warm evening and sitting here with no shirt on. Spoke to Jenny next door, and later Mathew came round and gave me a lecture on PRIDE.

Went to church and actually let the visiting minister, whom I met here on the property last night, his wife, Mathew, Jennifer and two strangers pray for me. Said “Abba Father” but could not cry out that I had found Jesus? Stopped drinking for a bit. Woke up thinking “Must go see Mike Fynn” so did. My fathers friend and Jehovah’s Witness Elder. I will do anything to get off this mission. Start Bible study with him. I received orders for more radios, now I had to collect them at Chondre’s work place. She is in accounts now and I did not see her only the new receptionist, Trudy.

Woke up not feeling so sick, and the need for a wake up drink not there! Took all Chondre’s stuff out of my study. Cleaned the whole room, looking good.  Chatted to Mathew and got some insights on PRIDE. Later…Absolute fear of been alone and lonely hit me. Started to think “Try fix this thing with Chondre.” Next day thought “Yesterday was just a momentary lapse of reason. Also thinking of the past is not good, things do not have to be the same. Must remember it was at this time last year I got my “Fuck you” attitude and started fighting with Dougie big time. Then reading Mike Fynn’s booklet on how to get close to Jehovah. Took out old Bible as well. For a chap that was worried his life will be empty with out a girlfriend? Crazy, crazy.

I had an interview for a proper job, the one everyone said I should get. This was for an insurance salesman. I must do what I must do. On the way to the interview, in heavy traffic, On way to interview got call that Evan has to reschedule! Go home, don’t drink. That afternoon got to appointment late and had to still wait for more than 15 minutes. I then wrecked the interview. Almost stopped at Buccleuch to by booze, didn’t. Made it to Midrand, about 12km, just stopped at cash card, drew money and went to Bottle Store. Tried hard not to buy vodka, not six but a dozen Hunters. Fuck, like I say one must take one’s victories where on finds them. Then sneaked in the booze as I am ashamed Jenny will see me. For the fucking peaceful easy feeling that the booze gives in the first while. Now listening to Eagles that MUST also drink. Awake at 6.30. Too much thinking by 7 opened a Hunters. Drank a bit, sent CV to jobs in the paper and then slept for an hour. Contemplated what I would buy to drink today. Why the jobs. Who knows, I was drunk. Saw missed call from Pertec, where I pick up radios then Chondre phoned. Just “Can I pick up clothes tomorrow.” Bought gin and tonic. Got drunk.

Sobered up enough to go pick up Evonne at the airport. Evonne and I chatted at my place and Gordon came round for a few minutes. Then Evonne and I went out, she drove. This is the woman that wanted a cowboy and would like to see me drunk. Okay. We went into a bar, not 20 minutes and the height difference is an issue. Evonne has gone out with Wayne, never the Mexican. I check out my antagonists, 5 of them, not so big. I have 6 bullets and proved with the cat my sobriety, or lack of it does nothing to my ability to shoot very, very straight. I think fuck that, I am in a pissed off mood I want to box; so I give the standard speech that at least one of them will be dead before this is over, all at once or one at the time, I don’t care. Which one of them wants to die. They think I am crazy and leave. Evonne is upset. We drink a little more and she spends the night at my place. Women.

Got up early. Took Evonne home.  Chondre came and we actually spoke. Don’t know if I made any sense. Don’t know what to do. Went to church. Feeling very ill. Saw bad accident on way home. Days pass. I go to a show at gordart Gallery. My artbook is on display, It is a miniature book, with cover and photos, the title is The Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief. Ironic. No one buys it. Evonne and Angela arrived; Angela leaves so I take Evonne home. Mike picked up some more radios for me, business is going okay and when he was here dropping them off, Chondre phoned him to thank him for saving her stuff. Shit, I did not know it was in danger. Never mind have money and my mate is playing in the Blues Room in Sandton. I call Evonne and ask her to go with me. After the Blues room  I spend the night at her place. Women do like the crazy guys better.

Days pass, Chondre came and we spoke for three hours. She still loves me and was jealous when she saw me talking to Jennifer, Matthew’s wife. Why?  I like Jennifer and do remember talking to her, vaguely. Chondre tells me that she wants me etc. but can’t show it. What? The biggest surprise is that she said if I had asked her she would have married me. Is she bad for me or did I fuck up. The need to drink immediately is overwhelming. I do that. She must have left. I went to the bottle store and bought two bottles of vodka. Jennifer came over. Mickey’s wife is visiting and I should come over. Mickey is a mercenary I know from Angola, he is some where on ops, as this is going down. Angola…..can’t seem to get rid of the bloody place. I go meet Mickey’s wife. Mickey is or was a plumber so he and Matthew know each other. One of the horses on the property belong to Mickey.

Days or hours go passed. Bad day. Went looking for booze first thing. On way to church, cops stopped me for no seatbelt. I get a warning, they seem not to smell the alcohol. Mickey’s wife and friend were there.. ……..went to Evonne for a braai, drank like a fish, Will came to the braai, I must have phoned him, he gave me some money and left……..

I sobered up and Chondre came and we got back together again. She moved all her stuff back in.

I had –R164.00 in my bank at that stage. I had seen no positive results in the “finding a proper job” field and started concentrating on building a restaurant suppliers database, with the idea of selling advertising space in my Newsletter. To this end I did not go to ONE interview in Randburg with a “meat market” company – Personnel Agency. Did not know it at the time but Chondre was angry about this. Normally not a very affectionate type she seemed slightly less so in the next few days. Her Mother came around and having her there drunk did not help my disposition. When Will visited she was even more unfriendly than usual. I was hoping it would get better and went for two interviews at this time, while still working long hours to capture data. The bed was damned cold anyway so worked. Chondre showed very little interest in the interviews and offered no encouragement.  I was resentful of the fact that by now it was just expected that supper would be cooked for her and Jared and the dishes would also just be left. Had an argument about how she treats me, and picked on her for putting Jared back on Asthma medicine as I believed he just had a cold. Cortisone is bad stuff and she likes the doctors too much.

Then one morning I found a horrible, insulting letter from her on my desk. It pointed out that she was tired of been the only responsible one in the relationship, pointing out that I find my “stupid databases” more important than finding a job. My father and I are idiots because we distrust the medical profession and a few other things she disliked about me. She also complained that I do my own washing and have my own bath towel? Don’t ask me!  I do not clean the house often enough for her liking, forgetting it seems that the mess she and Jared made of the kitchen every evening and morning were cleaned up every day. She said she was better off alone.

My reaction was bad, I immediately e mailed her a letter pointing out how I had found her, alone, afraid and lonely in a back room flat that looked like a pigsty. Not nice, but true. Pointed out how she was used and abused when she did not have me around and a whole lot of other things that were true, but I did it in spite and anger. That night we tried to talk it out, to no avail, she did not bother to say goodnight.

Saturday started with Chondre totally ignoring me and obviously getting ready to go out. I tried to ignore the situation and remain calm, really did, but the Mexican Horse Thief and past experiences crowded in. Chondre walked away from me as I was trying to talk to her. I grabbed her shoulder and she screamed, “Don’t touch me.” She could not have thought up a better trigger. I lost it. Told her she was full of it and only used me to get a father figure for Jared, just as Dougie said. Threatened to throw her out the window and smash her pretty face in with a head-butt. More than six years of sobriety and all that entails out the window. I shook her by the shoulders and the Mexican wanted to kill. She just heaped more hurtful abuse on me. She eventually ran out the door.

This is the weird part, conflicting feelings accosted me, one was the shame of my actions but the other extremely strong feeling was of a sense of relief. Once I had calmed down I had a feeling of peace, for heavens sake! The intellect took over and I knew that this girl would want some payback, my first thought was the illegal rifle, one word to the cops and my ass would be grass. Quickly wrapped up my Lee Enfield and “stashed’ it where it would not be found. If I had any idea of the lies she would tell the police I probably would have just disappeared! She did not return that night. Sunday morning I got a call from the police, they wanted me to come in and clear up a weapons charge against me. In my arrogance thought I could clear up what ever shit this was.

I arrived at Midrand police station and found the investigating officer. I immediately told him I was armed and would like to hand over the weapon. This was done, cops are very scary people and my respect for them and the way they handle firearms is…. limited. The cop then informed me that Chondre had file a charge of not only assault and battery but added I had threatened her with a fire arm. Oh, my joke about a pretty woman been the most dangerous thing I have seen is so true. The cop asked if I would like to make a statement, but in a round about way suggested that it was a bad idea. I disagree, the truth has a way of coming out, so gave a minute by minute statement of where the firearm was during the argument. It had moved from the floor next to my bed, onto the bed, never once leaving the holster. That done he told me I was to be held until I went to court. Got my one phone call but Gordon and Mike were not at home. Left a message on my neighbour, Matthew’s phone.

Back in a holding cell, this time sober and not deserving of this nonsense.   Two more chaps were brought in, both black guys, so when a very large policeman,  came and asked who Wayne Bisset was, it was pretty dumb and leading somewhere else. Being ignorant of exactly what Chondre had said in her statement and to these policeman did not expect what followed. He just said “ You do not look so tough.” And stared for a couple of minutes before walking away. I know I do not look tough, I was the smallest person in the station, and that includes all the police women. Had more harassment for the rest of my stay. Why, because this girl that supposedly loved me and I was honest to about my past, wrote a few pages on how I had beaten policemen – more that 10 years ago – as if it were last week. Happy, happy times in that cell. Not as bad as I had seen but got a couple of slaps along side the head. A couple of different ending could have happened in that cell, most of them no good. I was feeling pretty desperate and when Matthew arrived I thought that was the answer to my prayers, perhaps it was but not the way I envisioned it.

Matthew arrived and was not at all interested in getting me out! He wanted to know if I had head-butted Chondre. I asked if her bloody nose was broken and what did he think? Unfortunately it would seem that Matthew was quite taken in by Miss Muffit. He left and said he was going to check up on her and would be back. Okay, it was very cold and I shared a filthy, smelly blanket with and equally filthy, smelly chap. A few hours and a bit of harassment from the cops later Matthew arrived again. He was even more taken in by the performance Chondre had put up, but to give him his due, he did tell her that if I went to prison her life would not be worth much once I got out. This was probably true. He then proceeded to preach to me, telling me that this had all happened because I refused to accept his way of worshipping Jesus and was still friends with a Jehovah’s Witness’s. This was not done in his practiced quiet voice, but very loudly he was playing to an audience. I am sure that his intentions to bear witness were good, but never have I felt that the road to hell is paved with good intentions so strongly. He eventually stopped “kaking” on me and left. All I wanted was out of that place, I was in physical danger. Once he had gone and saw that I was on my own, the Mexican took stock of the situation. Only a holding cell with a cheap padlock, I had learned how to open those without a key in the army, by 1am only four policemen in the building 3 dozing, – escape and evasion? Nope, just handle the shit as it comes. The floor got softer, the blanket and cell mate less smelly and my mind quiet, I went asleep.

Early the next morning I was taken to the holding cells at the Magistrates court in Midrand. Met a whole bunch of other criminals, again the only white boy. Some drug dealers were there but well organized with Take Away food and Cokes. Seems this is the way it is in our justice system. Long wait and finally in court, hard time hearing what was said but went for the free lawyer option. Back to the holding cell. Saw lawyer, a black lady. Told her “Not guilty.” Second appearance – could not hear every thing but the doctors report was brought out and dismissed as there was no bloody head-butting. They spoke a bit, the prosecutor, lady magistrate and my lawyer. Back to the holding cell. Lawyer came back told me I HAD to plea guilty to something. Told her, okay verbal abuse is true as well as threatening to do physical harm.

Back to court. The weapons charge kicked out, Chondre had overplayed her hand and the magistrate saw her statement for what it was, she also heard that the cop beating story was ten years ago and kicked that out. A document saying I was fit to carry a firearm ordered by the magistrate. Prosecutor not happy. Back to the holding cell. My lawyer said if I want the rulings on the weapon and assault with intent  to stay dropped, I had to plea to “lesser assault”. I would have to write down and sign that I had punched Chondre in the head. No man! Argued and she convinced me this was the only way to end this thing here and now. Great, so I committed perjury, in the cause of justice, of course. Back to court. A long speech and a fine of R1500.00 payable in instalments of R250.00 a month, along with a suspended sentence for assault.  I did mention that my computer, therefore my income was at my house and Chondre had a restraining order. Magistrate said if she gives me any problems to come right back to her. Okay. So much for mans justice. The Bible mention that one of the things God hates and is punishable is – “False witness.” Not so here, the fact that a court of law had decided Chondre lied in a sworn statement, about a very serious weapons charge, so help her God and all that, was of no concern to anyone but me.

I was out! Now, although the police are quite good about getting you to the court, they don’t care how you get back. Fortunately the policemen were not too diligent in their duties at the police holding cells the night before, I had removed my bootlaces as ordered but hid them in my boots. This was in case I took the escape and evasion course.

I had a long walk back to my car and unlaced boots would have been a problem. The wallet and cell phone were taken thought. Bummed a smoke and set off. A few hundred meters from the police station, and my car, Matthew pulled up. This is at about 4pm. He had some food and cold drink for me, for which I was grateful. I was not so grateful for the lecture on my pride and intellect been my downfall. He informed me that Chondre was now even more terrified as her attempts that morning to drop the charges came too late. Not impressed myself, if she was so terrified she could have done something the night before at the cop station. Like I say, Matthew seems to be taken in with that girl. Got my wallet and cell back, the gun and Swiss Army knife had to wait for the paperwork. Drove to my house, it was hired under Section Eight’s name. New locks! Okay.

To Evonne’s place. Told her my side of the story and my ex-girlfriend believed me. Going so far as to say that even when we broke up she NEVER had any fear of me been violent. The AA work had changed the person but Chondre had resurrected the Mexican. Man, I was doubting my own sanity at this point. Not one that normally uses profanity Evonne said, “F that bitch, get your stuff and move in here”.

I called Matthew and asked him to speak to Chondre about me getting some basics out the house. This done I went to collect, who was at the door? Her drunken mother. Great. Chondre had her superior attitude mode on and started dictating how things would be done. I informed her of what the magistrate had said, and I could call her up right now, and how I had some orders to process and calls to make. She has always been intimidated by authority and bowed. I could come in during the day while she was at work untill I had sorted out my business. Her and her mother left, all the time Jared was kept well away from me. Poor little boy, another man deserting him. At this stage I do not believe Chondre’s version of what happened with his father.  She had done this before and no doubt will do it again. Once alone I had a bath, there is nothing quite like the smell of prison cells and I stank! Packed a few things and went to Evonne.

My disposition at this stage was not good, for the next few days I just collected my stuff that Chondre had packed and left on the patio, moved my computer into Evonne’s office and stewed.

I wanted nothing to do with the Charismatic church after Matthew’s tirade. Jennifer saw me collecting stuff and we spoke about the real casualty in this business, Jared. I went to see her quite often after that, Matthew continued his lectures about the usual things. My thoughts were about rafters. Mike and Liz my fathers JEHOVAH’S WITNESS friends were very neutral on the subject. Chondre had been to see them, must say she did not bad mouth me too much, but told them she needed space and cancelled the studies. Mike picked up that Matthew had gone from been a bully to “the most wonderful man”.  Okay, that came as no surprise. I attended a few meetings but was not very happy with any religion and had to rethink my path. I had been praying for some guidance and this was not what I had in mind.

Picking up the radio’s was a hassle, Chondre had told her colleges, more accurately her male colleges her version of the story. I phoned and got Trudy, newly appointed in sales. She is a nervous person and had to clear up whether I could still buy radios or not. Chondre graciously informed her bosses she would allow it! I arrived and Peter and Lawrence were in the reception area, cold, if not hard stares. Both to soft and flabby to confront me with what they probably said while I was not physically present.

I had to wait for a cheque to be cleared this time, new rules. Trudy and Ruth were busting with curiosity.  After the way those men looked at me I fell into a revengeful state, gave Ruth my version and backed it up with the courts findings. Ruth followed me out to the car and I found out Chondre, who runs Ruth down constantly, has been borrowing money from her. Ruth accused Chondre of just about everything that Chondre accused her of! Thank goodness I was out of that mess. Still bad boy that I am, I told Ruth everything Chondre had ever said about everyone in the company. I wonder if Peter and Lawrence were still so impressed with those soul big brown eyes and double D’s when Ruth passed that on. I know, I know. I had to go and collect radios again and followed the same procedure, bending Trudy’s ear a little bit. She is hurt because as a friend she had given Chondre a place to stay, the first time she left, and was repaid with a cold shoulder and worse, Chondre did her utmost to get the girl fired. I struggled with vengeful thought much worse that just telling those women what Chondre had said.

I stayed at Evonne’s place and started drinking about a litre of vodka a day. This made everyone unhappy, so when my sister phoned and said, “Come down to the Cape.” I left for a 4 year mission in the Western Province, it was not pretty. Unlike the romance of novels my new “New Life” did not