As always, one comes upon these without warning. We think he had a silencer fitted to his 'rattle'.
It rotated so quickly that it's head was a blur. Probably thought it spotted its mate below.
Back to the water in Del Mar.
Giving us the tail.
In the meantime, the beach has gone to the dogs.
On a Saturday night, the 4 of us set off for a night of ice-skating, an activity only Jenni had undertaken in her youth. I can’t remember whether she skated as she was 6 months pregnant at the time—actually, I think she did. I should add one more piece of background to set the scene. Three years earlier, Punks had emigrated to the United States. At the time, he had a revolver. One should know that South Africa was becoming a dangerous place to live. Truth be told, compared to the current environment, it was like Disneyland but only for the European descendants. I purchased the gun, obtained a licence and kept it in our dressing room in a high cupboard. Punks enters the story for a second reason: He simply will love the pictures of this blog.
On our return from skating, we noticed it had been raining. We put the kids to bed and we followed shortly thereafter, as I was nursing both a bruised ego and buttocks. At about 2:30am, we awoke from what sounded like thunder. I jumped from our bed and looked through the window. Why I don’t know but I did. I thought I saw someone standing outside our front gate. Our property was surrounded by a high wall, iron burglar bars covered the windows and two large sliding doors had wrought iron security gates protecting them. Even the lightning could not penetrate. I returned to bed, although with Jenni so far pregnant, there was not much space for me in our king bed. However, who was I to complain—she was doing the carrying. (I suddenly realized why I always have to carry the heavier backpack. Payback!)
Something disturbed us further. It sounded like banging of metal. I decided to take a look through the house. I walked down the passage, still half-asleep but awakening quickly. Separating the living quarters from the entertainment rooms, we had a door which we kept locked at night. I listened further, heard nothing and proceeded. I unlocked the door slowly. By this time, I was alert. I opened the door quietly and heard whispers as well as saw movement of light on the walls—a flashlight. I was then at full alert. The iron gate had been yanked from the frame, we subsequently discovered—the cause of the noise. (Hard to comprehend how brazen they were.) Jenni and the two children were down the passage and at least two hoodlums were in our living room.
What would Clint do? These guys were clearly not ‘making my day’. I closed the door quietly, locked it and rushed back to seek advice from Jenni. I summarized the situation quickly, had a little cry, dried my eyes and asked her to chase the ‘baddies’ out of the house. What about calling the police? Tough—they had been defunded. (Excuse me.) Seriously, we formulated a plan in seconds. The problem was the landline was beyond the interleading door. Of course, cellphones were something of the future.
We were obviously very concerned about the children. I jumped onto a shelf, retrieved the revolver, and agreed that we had to get the bastards, I use the word unreservedly, out of the house. To this end, I went to bedroom window, placed the revolver through the burglar bars while Jenni would set off the panic button of the alarm when we were ready. The idea was to scare them, hoping they would then flee. The problem with the plan was that I was going to aim low and shoot the bastards who were endangering us. Of course, there is a legal issue of when one is allowed to shoot. At the time, I was thinking survival rather than jurisprudence.
On signal, Jenni pulled the chord, the alarm bellowed, I yelled something and we heard fleeing footsteps on the patio. The plan was working. To help them on their way, I decided to make their visit unforgettable, being wonderful hosts of course. I opened fire.
After the dust settled, there was not much of it because of rain, I went to survey the damage and hope that I would not find bodies covering our patio and garden. The thieves had taken a video player but had left the television set and everything else. That was the least of our concerns and not because television was lousy. The real problem was our feeling of vulnerability, having been violated and worse, that it affected Natalie quite severely, Gavin too but less so. It was completely understandable and so sad. Fortunately, Gavin was brave and supported his sister by caring for her tenderly. Good stuff, Gav.
At first light, the kids came out with us to survey the crime scene. We tried to turn it into an adventure and at first, it worked. By nightfall, reality set in for the kids and to an extent, ourselves. At the scene, we found large footprints showing where the thugs had skidded as well as a man’s (thief’s) watch. The officer said to me, ‘they won’t be back knowing that you are armed and prepared to use it.’ He did not take issue with the legal aspects. Suffice to say, the incident left us with a hollow feeling for a while.
The second incident was equally action-packed but fortunately, outside the home. I was under contract with Investec Bank in Johannesburg. Errol Grolman, a very good friend, had asked me to join the bank and we agreed on a trial period. Tragically, Errol passed away during the beginning of 2019. We miss him.
Back to 1988. I had been to visit Mario during my lunch break. He supplied a new video machine to replace the stolen one. I was walking along Mooi Street in downtown Johannesburg when I heard a woman scream. I turned toward the sound and saw a small group of people congregated on the pavement (sidewalk) while a male came sprinting away from the group. I noticed he was carrying a handbag (purse) and I gave chase. It was surreal. Here we were, just the two of us running along a busy street which seemed devoid of traffic. Fortunately, I was closing the gap which was further narrowed because he kept looking behind him and of course noticing me. I had a decision to make.
I decided that I would tackle him in typical rugby style, forgetting that my rugby-playing days were long past. The problem was whether he was armed or what he would do once he was down. I knew I’d make the tackle rough and I would land on him. Hopefully, he would crash on the hard surface, be winded and hurt, and then I would attempt to subdue him in not a subtle manner. Fortunately, the dilemma was solved when he dropped the bag, tempting me to stop for it and end the pursuit. I did just that allowing him to flee.
It was delightful to hand the bag to the woman who was in tears and obviously distraught. She took it from me, gave me a blank stare and then I headed back to the office. It was the first time I had burned more calories than consumed on a lunch break.
You can tell it's a unionist: He is preparing to strike. Head moves fast again. (Big thank you to Jenni for provoking and tickling the rattler so it would move about as it did.)
Cheers,
'Rattle and Roll'.
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