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Archive | October, 2012
SAA and the Lost Auster
17 OctThe blog I just posted reminded me of a joke which is probably a bit risky to put up openly on Facebook but via this shouldn’t be a problem:
This happened before SAA were barred from overflying African countries and was probably one of the reasons the ban was started….
It was one of Jomo Kenyatta’s anniversaries in Kenya and, as part of the celebrations the ‘Kenya Air Force’ had scheduled a fly-past of Austers to honour the old despot.
One of the pilots got detached from the formation and was trying to find his way back…
“Nairobi control, Naitrobi control this is XXXXXX – can you give me a position fix, please?”
At this precise moment, it seems, overhead at 35,000 ft, was a SAA Bowing 707 and the crew were on the same wavelength so the SAA pilot cut in with
“This is SAA XXXX, tell me Kaffir, if you can’t find your own airfield how the f–k are you going to bomb Johannesburg!”
To those who might shudder – IT’S ONLY A JOKE USING LANGUAGE AND THE IDIOMS OF THE DAY – SO PLEASE DON’T FRET OVER IT!
I want my Mummy!
17 OctIn my 20s I ’emigrated’ to South Africa – the premise was that, as all my mates had buggered off to Australia, New Zealand and Canada I should, really, go somewhere and South Africa was nearer (and cheaper – £ 10.00 ‘assisted passage) – I was in the Caravan business at the time, Sales Manager of an accessories wholesaler in Harlesden – so it seemed natural to see if ‘Caravans International’, a Norwich firm with a factory near Durban, needed any staff – they did, assistant buyer, which, as most of the hardware they used was imported from UK, suited me down to the ground.
I had to be interviewed in Norwich by their MD but, and those were the days, was provided with a 1st class return train ticket and met by a driver at the station. Got the job – it was a breeze and started the process of obtaining the cheap ticket.
In due course I found myself on a South African Airways Boeing 707 en-route to Johannesburg. In those days SAA were not allowed to overfly any of the African countries so the flight was long and complicated – Heathrow, Las Palmas (Canaries), Windhoek (SW Africa – now Namibia) and then J’0’burg.
I was met at ‘Jan Smuts’ Airport (it still is I believe!) by a guy whose name escapes me but he was the epitomatic colonial type – Khaki bush suit, socks and heavy boots, huge ‘RAF’ moustache and a cowboy hat of sorts but with a huge brim – he was to drive me to Durban but not in one hop (thank goodness) – we stayed overnight in Ladysmith although I didn’t see much of the place.
WE arrived late the following day in Pinetown which is in the Durban suburbs and the location of the Caravan Factory. There I was given a room at a very nice residential hotel, full board which, I was surprised to find, was included in the deal – so my salary, when it came, was not to be diluted by rent and food – the only things I had to pay for were luxuries and alcohol!
Where were we? Let’s get to the point here!
This was the first, ever, time I had genuinely been away from home and I felt terribly homesick for the initial period but got over it when I realised just how well off I was and, equally, discovered that Durban and the surrounding area had a surfeit of eligible women – in fact it was rumoured that predatory gangs of them would prowl around at night looking for single guys – I never witnessed this phenomenon but I did notice, quite quickly, that ‘pulling’ was a lot easier than it had been in the UK.
Digressing again!
The point is that, with a divorce pending I am living alone in this rather nice flat in Southampton, no Wife and a long way away from all friends and acquaintances and, for the past couple of days, I have been quite ill.
This has caused me to recall the first severe illness I had in South Africa and fully justifies the title of this piece
The Dangers of too much economy with the Truth
15 OctI have a ‘Wine Club’ deal with Marks and Spencer. What this means is that, every 2-3 months, they put together a delivery of 12 bottles of mixed red wine (I don’t drink White at all) and deliver it to me. Members of this club don’t have any input as to what is chosen – we leave it to M & S’s ‘experts’ to do the chosing!
Which has worked fine until the last batch arrived. This contained a couple of bottles of Brazilian Tempranillo – I had never come across Brazilian wine at all – the predominent S. American countries marketing in the UK seem to be Chile and Argentina (the latter being somewhat surprising – if they want to keep our Wine business they’s better stop coveting the Falklands!).
Being curious I opened and poured myself a glass of the Brazilian (after the sun had passed the yard-arm, of course – the wine was deilvered at 10 AM for pete’s sake!) – the long and the short of it was that Listerine has a better taste and, in some cases, colour and ‘bouquet’ – it was bloody awful – somewhere between Thames River Water at Depthford and undiluted Nitric acid (with a splash of Parazone in there somewhere to enhance the ‘nose’).
For some reason known only to myself (or not – senior dilemma as per usual) I used the rest of the bottle to make a Boeuf Bourguinon that evening and did not, as is my wont, immediately fire off a letter of extreme displeasure to M & S (‘Disgusted of Southampton’ ).
Later on I remembered (actually it was when the second bottle of this liquid purporting to be Wine was the only one I had left) that I had to do something.
A quick response from M & S (a ‘template’ I suspect) requested that I unearth the bill and the packaging and send it back to them.
An even quicker response from me told them that this demand was point blank ridiculous and impossible anyway as both items had long been carted away by the good folks at Veolia working on behalf of Soton Town Council.
How about my monthly statement – would that be OK? – I responded – and this is where the lies started – I have both bottles here if anyone wishes to inspect them (holds breath thinking they’re never going to fall for that!).
Back comes ‘Customer Service’ – take both bottles into your local store together with this e-mail and your monthly statement and you will be refunded the full cost of the wine and many, many apologies for supplying this crud to you &c., &c.
So off I traipse to M & S in Southampton Central and spend 20 mins queing at the ‘returns’ desk – when, eventually, I reach an ‘agent’ (why are we getting so americanised in the UK?) I am told, albeit politely, that I have to go to the food complaints desk in the basement..
I go down there but can’t find it – wandering about looking lost I am eventually approached by an M & S person who points me in the direction of this counter – I still can’t find it but the same person spots me looking lost again and carefully guides me to a pokey, unmanned, little, counter hidden behind a couple of pillars. “Stay there, Sir, she says, I’ll find someone to help you”.
Eventually Ellie turned up, about 19 and stunning – but with no idea what to do – I told her I didn’t want a refund and would much rather just pick out replacement bottles – at this point I compounded the lie by showing Ellie that I only had one and that the one bottle (one glass drunk and the rest used in cooking) had been thrown out. “I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before” says she – and shoots off to find a knowledgeable person.
Ellie returned in around 5 minutes and told me I could go to their extensive wine department and pick out TWO bottles of any wine I fancied – I queried this – “Is there not a bottle price limit?” I asked, “they didn’t say anything about that – just anything you care to take” she responded with a mischievious smile calculated to melt the heart and gird the loins of ANY man let alone a 69 year old pensioner.
So – two bottles of 2001 Brunello di Montalcini (retail in M & S £ 37.00 each) quickly went into my bag and I thanked Ellie and scooted off quickly in case they had a sudden change of commercial heart!
AND AS I LEFT THE STORE I STUMBLED AND ONE OF THE BOTTLES FELL OUT OF THE BAG AND DISINTEGRATED!
IRONIC OR WHAT?
griptypethynne 