Civil Engineering May 2022 | Vol 30 No 4

Civil Engineering May 2022 17 the storm waves surged under the bun- galow around the timber struts. It was wartime then and we had blackout – there were German wolfpacks operating off the Cape and my father was away, serving in the Med. Sometimes we would wake in the morning to a sea covered in ships as far as the eye could see – great convoys steaming to the battle of El Alamein or the Burma Campaign. Afterwards, the beach would be covered with hairy mango pips and Brylcreme 1 – to this day, I still can’t face mangos. Heavy seas would cut scarps in the beach as high as we were. Like all small boys we took great pleasure in smashing them down with our feet. Mostly the sea would leave a layer of foam on the beach. As small children we loved to stomp though it, waist deep, leaving corridors in our wake. Often it was coloured green, like the fuel of tor- pedoed ships. Often, we had recuperating sailors – survivors – staying with us; quiet men coming to terms with their ordeal. Those were halcyon days. I learned to surf – body surfing and belly boarding – before I could swim, and I didn’t know that the water was cold! We would often spend hours romping in the shallows. Often, we would meet at Donnie’s stacky 2 pool at the north end of 1 st Beach and try to catch bul- lies that scurried amongst the crevices. In summer, after school, the older boys would go out in their corrugated iron canoes (surf boards hadn’t reached us then) to catch kreef 3 and return surfing through the breakers. They boiled them up in seawater on driftwood fires and everyone came down to buy their supper – tickey or sixpence each. LATER YEARS Those days have never left me. At times, in the quiet of the night, their memories may come floating gently back, a palliative for the urgency of modern life – a suffuse of blue. It was 25 years later that my wife Daphne and I returned to the sea, to work at building the South African suite of fishing harbours and building a house at Llandudno. Here we lived, for nigh on 50 years, ensconced in our eyrie, high above the sea with only the mountain and the fynbos behind. Seaward we gazed, forever into a blue infinity – a dynamic world of water, glowing blue, always changing, always the same. At end of day, we would watch the sun sink flaming into the sea, suffusing the world of blue with shades of red and violet. Daphne soon learned to love the sea and its fruits. She had an old grape picking basket that she would, on occasion, leave outside the front door with some money under it. Come morning the money would be gone and the basket would be full of kreef – at least that was her story and she I used to tell people I had no shoes. Mother said I did, I wouldn’t wear them. As can be seen, mother is always right Kreef! Storm clouds gathering