Sitting on the shed roof

20140815_122827

When I was a young girl, aged nine, my family moved to Cape Town in the Western Cape. For the first few months we lived in a rented house in an area called Kirstenbosch and then we moved into another temporary house in a seaside village called Fishhoek. My mother was very busy at the time with my two younger sisters who were both under two years old so my second sister down, Catherine, and I had quite a free reign.

We used to walk from our cottage to the sea and spend the afternoon playing in the surf and collecting shells in a plastic bucket to take home with us. The first afternoon we went to the beach, my mother wanted to come part of the way with us. Some fresh air would do her and the two small girls good and she would also enjoy the exercise. Little Laura was put into the hooded pram and Hayley was dressed in her favourite boots and we all set off out of the small wooden gate and down the road. The wind turned into a vicious monster. It whooshed into the pram with such force that Laura screamed with fright and went all red in the face. I thought that she looked very ugly with her small face all screwed up and crying and I hoped the wind didn’t change so that her face stayed like that. I didn’t fancy a gremlin for a sister. Hayley was nearly blown off her feet and she too began to cry. My poor mother turned right around and took the two girls back home while Cath and I continued down to the sea. We were made of tougher stuff and the wind didn’t bother us that much.

On Saturday afternoons, my mother, father and the two small children would have a rest and Catherine and I would climb up onto the tin roof of the tool shed. The roof was partially covered by a large tree and we would sit up there in the shade and make decorations out of our shells and any smooth pebbles we managed to find on the beach or sometimes, I am ashamed to say, on the pebbled paths of houses we passed on our way to and from the beach.

I have always remembered those pleasant afternoons on that roof and all the lovely trinkets we made with our clear glue and a variety of different sizes and shapes of shells and pebbles. Small spiral shells became arms and legs and medium sized flat shares became bonnets and aprons. Larger spiral shells turned into dresses and tiny flat shells were hands and feet. We never made any boy shell people. Our little shell dollies lived in a ladies only society although I do remember making dogs, rabbits and other animals.

Three months after we moved to Fishhoek, we moved back to Kirstenbosch and into our own house. I was glad in many ways to move as our new home was close to my school and I could walk to and from school every day. That was a great deal pleasanter than having to wait on the pavement for my Dad to collect me each day. Often he was only able to fetch me at 5pm and on the odd occasion it was even later. I had a little boyfriend who lived down the road from the school. Gavin used to ride his bicycle back to the school and keep me company while I waited. It was safe in those days so it wasn’t risky for a child to wait outside the school for a parent to collect him or her. It did get a bit tiresome though, especially on the few occasions when I was forgotten and Dad was quite late getting me. It wasn’t his fault, he had a job to do and we only had one car at the time but I can remember being a bit worried he wouldn’t come.

Of course, he always did. Good old Dad.

48 thoughts on “Sitting on the shed roof

    1. Thank you for your comment, Walt. I am so pleased you enjoyed this post. I have been reflecting on my own childhood days a bit lately as my boys leave their childhoods and enter teenagedom. Have a wonderful week, Walt.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. It is a shame they don’t, Jennie, and we have to work extra hard to create things for them. I did sand art with my boys which they turned into swamp art, and we made lego cities that spanned the whole lounge and a lot of painting and other artwork. So much fun.

      Like

      1. Welcome Robbie for your kind gesture. Pl do let me know the time when u will be reviewing the book so I too can tune into it. I too am going to share my poet’s touch on my blog tomorrow cause now the book is available on Amazon Kindle as a paperback.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Hi Robbie – I enjoyed reading these memories about your childhood. What strikes me is, and you mentioned this in a comment, how different our own children’s lives are, I think because the world has changed and isn’t quite as safe as it used to be. In my experiences, I was much more independent because I grew up in a small town and was allowed to go all over on my bike. Maybe you can still do that there, but not where we live now, which used to be semi-rural, but is now exploding with developments and no real town center. Also, technology plays a big role in how children think and what they do. Maybe it will lead to great things, but what’s lost are the days when you sit on a roof and make things out of shells. Great post.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Barbara. I absolutely agree with what you have said and I don’t believe technology stimulates creativity. If you think about all the World Economic Forum reports that cite creativity as a vital skill for the future, I really worry for our children. Instant visuals are a creativity killer.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Beautiful memories Robbie. I have fond memories of sitting on our shed roof with my 3 sisters. They used to jump down with ease, while I always took the safer route back to earth. I never did become a daredevil!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. We are all different, Brigid. My sister, Cath, was not a dare devil either. She was a good girl and she used to follow my naughty lead. I was not deliberately naughty, I just always had a head full of fun ideas which often got everyone around me into trouble.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I remember once picking my daughter up extremely late from school–a couple of hours. She had been instructed in that sort of emergency to sit and wait. And wait. When I finally got there, she was sitting but in tears, frantic. It was awful but thankful.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I am sure if it was unexpected and unusual she would have worried, Jacqui. I am sure you felt very guilt as I would have. I was used to waiting for my Dad. He always did his best with one car and four little girls to support. He is a great man.

      Like

  4. I never thought to make boy figures either! While I didn’t sit on the roof, I did have the same kind of imaginative play for hours under the trees on our property. My grandchildren have screen free Mondays and manage to find tons of creative things to do. The urge certainly is still in kids if it is nurtured.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. What lovely memories, Robbie. I’m an only child and that makes me enjoy stories of siblings in particular. I love the image of your dollies only females’ society as well (+ animals). Thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s