William john (bill) (1938 - 1962)

On my arrival back in Salisbury – we came back also non-stop but via Durban! - Digger had moved out of the mess, met Jean and joined CABS Building Society and Malcolm Holland had left the bank and joined Founders Building Society.  Waiting for me were my call-up papers for national service!

I went on a Tellers Course to Bulawayo and whilst there had to go to Brady Barracks for my army medical.  Passing this was no problem (damnit) and I was told to report at the beginning of March.  As luck would have it, I suffered a perforated eardrum and my national service was postponed to June.

I was promoted to Teller and at lunchtimes used to chat to the new junior clerk, Maureen, and we became quite good friends. I had also become friendly with a guy called Peter Walker who was keen on cars and had one of the two MG Twincams in the country – his was red and the other black belonging to Isaac Codron.  We did rallies and other motor-related sports.  One such occasion saw us sitting in the shallow-end of the hotel pool at Zimbabwe Ruins Hotel at 02h00 with a crate of beer fully clothed - in dinner suits including bow-ties!

The relationship with Maureen developed, I went single to a party thrown by the visiting Bank auditors, and “clinched matters” by taking Maureen home – having outflanked a (smarmy/  handsome/  despicable/  etc, etc) French-Mauritian called Guy Pitot (or as we “normal” guys said: “Not so shit-hot Mr Pitot!”).

As for National Service with the army, I needn’t have worried about the “damnit” as I had an absolutely great time.  Obviously very uncomfortable on occasion – Llewellyn Barracks was definitely no holiday resort - but all in all, it was an excellent experience and served me in very good stead - although I must add  that I was lucky to bypass the infantry and was streamed into the Signals Brigade.  I passed out in November having, no doubt because I was a few years older than the other  guys, achieved the rank of Corporal.

I wrote to Maureen whilst away and spent time with her on an extended military pass to Salisbury when I seized my car!  My “mate” Peter “looked after” (?) her in my absence but that evaporated upon my return home!  Between regular weekend army parades we both played hockey, I also played soccer, at the bank club. The social life was great as always and generally we had a ball!  All the while we were becoming pretty serious and along the way I had obviously met her parents – although I had great trouble understanding them at first with their very broad Lancashire accents.

Toward the end of the year I ultimately asked Maureen “for her hand” and faced the “third degree” from her Dad.  Her Mom, I think, thought highly of me, which was absolutely great - she always was a wonderful person.  After consideration they gave their consent and we decided that our engagement would be announced in Cape Town that Christmas 1960.

We motored to Cape Town in the Austin, non-stop, leaving Salisbury after work on a Friday late afternoon, again through Bulawayo because of the rainy season, stopped briefly with Maureen’s grandparents there for coffee etc, through Beit Bridge, to the Arcadia Hotel in Pretoria, to see Earna and Johan Stierlin and to clean up, arriving mid Saturday afternoon.  After a couple of hours we left, passed through the middle of Johannesburg and at 04h00 the next morning nearly wrote ourselves off when I swerved to avoid an “imaginary” rabbit.  We stopped for some breakfast and coffee in Beaufort West, then at a service station in Worcester to tidy up before arriving at “Morland” at about 10.00 a.m. – absolutely wrecked but not about to admit it!

The “welcome” was probably not what it could have been!  My Dad found it “difficult” – to say the least – to accept that I could bring home anybody – let alone a female, a foreigner, or more specifically a “pommie”, AND a Roman Catholic to boot!  Just too much!  My Mom was a little better but Maureen still represented a threat – someone to steal her little boy!

We celebrated our engagement on New Year’s Eve, 31 December 1960, at the Barbazon Plaza Hotel in Green Point with old mates and their partners.

Left to Right: (Men standing, ladies seated) Brian Meggy and Maureen Mommen, Dave Black and Beth Batty, Ed Nilson and Carol Dorrington, Bill and Maureen, Peter Walker and Glynn.

All too soon it was time to return home to Salisbury.  Very quickly the Bank transferred Maureen to the Jameson Avenue branch as they did not allow partners to work in the same office!  We continued a normal social life until the end of August when we had a row and the engagement was broken off.

Maureen went off to Durban with her long-time friend Jenny Fish and, in some sort of retaliation, I guess, I also spent what I had saved and replaced the A40 with an A90 – all six cylinders and 3 litres of it!  I waited a while before informing my parents and my Mom was on virtually the next flight!  

The day before she arrived, a Sunday, I unfortunately hit a pedestrian – I thought he had taken a swipe at the car with a club or branch – and unbeknown to me at the time, killed him.  (This happened early evening and bear in mind that all this time there were riots going on, stonings etc and we were regularly called-up in the Army!)

I booked my Mom into the Quorn Hotel and, once the car had been repaired, we went up to Lusaka via Kariba and stayed with old friends Dick and Gwen Dickens who we had not seen for many years.  We spent a night in Livingstone, crossing the famous bridge to see the Victoria Falls and then back to Lusaka for a night before returning to Salisbury.  

We took time off stopping in the Mazabuka area, and through a wonderful old lady, Mrs Ilsley, traced the location and actually stood on the remains of the slab of the Dent family homestead where my Dad was born.  She was probably the local matriarch of considerable years with a sharp memory and regaled us with stories of the Dent children and some of their escapades.

We then went off to see the Matopos and, returning to Bulawayo, my left front kingpin sheered and the front wheel disappeared into the bush.  In brief, I contacted Maureen’s grandparents, stayed the weekend with them and managed to get the car repaired.  We met up with Maureen’s folks in Gwelo and ended up at their house to have sandwiches.  Inevitably, Maureen and I started talking in the kitchen and eventually announced in the lounge that the engagement was back on!  To which my Mom responded: “Take me back to the hotel NOW!”

We exchanged words - that was upsetting to say the least and I did my best to clear the air but to no avail.  She flew back to Cape Town with me suspecting that she had probably failed in her mission.

Life went back to normal for us until we discovered in mid-January that Maureen had fallen pregnant.  We needed no further prodding and decided to get married as soon as we could.  After making all the usual enquiries and preparations, we announced our wedding date for 3 March 1962.

At almost the same time, despite having made certain enquiries and contrary to all expectations I received a subpoena to appear in court regarding the motor accident three months earlier.  I had my licence suspended for six months for reckless and negligent driving AND was fined £150 which made a huge hole in our finances.

After some deliberation, we decided that the wedding service would take place at the Avondale Parish church of St Mary’s where by total co-incidence whilst attending a rehearsal, Maureen and I discovered that my Grandmother,  Dora,   was buried in the tiny churchyard there.

My brother Bob would not be able to make the wedding as he was with the whaling fleet in the South Atlantic, my parents were most unforthcoming but thankfully my sister Glynn, rather late in the day, saved the situation and was to be the only one to represent my family. Another disappointment was Maureen’s Dad refusing to “give her away” as she had elected to marry in the Church of England and not in the Catholic Church.  (Something in later years we are sure he regretted.)  Maureen’s Grandmother’s second husband, Harold, was to substitute.