Post high school, I wasted my father’s money by attending Johannesburg School of Art to study Commercial Art for two years. In fact, I was biding my time till I turned 21 and could legally leave home. I was boarding at the Wi****ersrand Women’s Residence and having a ‘ball’. It was wonderful to get away from home in Kimberley, from under my domineering step-mother’s thumb. Although there were a lot of rules and regulations, it was the most freedom I had ever had in my life.
I was the only first year art student at the Res that year, and the other older students were somewhat ‘stand-offish’ towards me at that stage. Undaunted, as I was used to solitude, I had fun in my own way. Solitary walks up the steep hill into Hillbrow or down to the city centre became normal for me - taking in the sights and sounds of the big city and savouring my freedom.
One day after classes, I decided it was time to have a jaunt into town. I had to lug my overly large cardboard art folder with me, as we had no lockers, but it didn’t matter. I stopped often to gaze at all the wonderful wares displayed in shop windows, to stare with longing eyes at all that I could not afford to buy.
Throngs of people bustled along the pavements, rushing to or from who knows where. Unexpectedly a tallish “Greek God” hove into view, walking towards me: his full head of wavy black hair swept back from his forehead, his dark eyes flashing above his aquiline nose, and a slight smile plastered to his full lips. He had broad shoulders and narrow hips – in short, a sight to set many girls’ hearts racing. His eyes lit on me, and his smile broadened – I think my heart stopped!
To my utter amazement, he strode up to me, enfolded me in his strong grip and planted a breathtaking kiss full on my lips. I thought I was going to faint! This all happened so suddenly and unexpectedly, that I had no time to react and my unwieldy folder nearly dropped from my weakened grip. When common sense stepped in, I hurriedly extricated my shaking self from his arms. By that time, he was gabbling words that I couldn’t understand – yes, he WAS speaking Greek!
Among the words that he had uttered, I had caught a girl’s name; this was obviously a case of mistaken identity. I gently tried to dispel his misconception, but every time I started to speak, he let loose a volley of words; by this time, he had broken into heavily accented English. He asked how I was, and why he had not seen me for so long, slipping in many words of endearment, not giving me chance to get a word in edge-ways. After telling me how much he had missed me, he paused for breath; I took my chance.
I hated telling this gorgeous guy that he had the wrong female, but it had to be done. At first, he thought I was ‘having him on’. He just could not believe that I was who I said I was – and not his ‘close’ friend (unless he greeted all casual acquaintances so enthusiastically?)
I left him on that crowded pavement, shaking his head over his faux pas, muttering to himself about the fact that I looked exactly like.... whatever the girls name was. That was scary! To think that there were TWO of me in the world? Ah well! That was a bit of an adventure to brighten my day!
I just had to giggle at this. It brought back an old memory for me. I was in the mall window shopping. A guy and girl were standing at a jewelry store window, and she wandered off and I moved into her place. I felt the guy take my hand in his, and without looking at me he says, "I think we should get married, what do you think?" Of course I was staring at him, wondering WTH??? Poor guy nearly jumped a foot when I said, "Ummm really think you need to work on that proposal." Oh, my he was SO embarrassed lol.
But TWO Fergies??? Would the world survive?
