Mountain Sanctuary Park and Memories

Memory is an awe-inspiring commodity.

Is it on sale? Can it be bought, sold, or bartered?

We all possess it; our brains retain it.

Today's renowned scientists say it is an intrinsic attribute that all of mankind and many animals have the function to retain and learn from past experiences. This is memory at work.

All you animal lovers that have a pet will know how your dog comes to your whistle, your cat hears its pellets being poured into its bowl and it never forgets where it's litter is.

A memory that constantly stays with me is often catapulted to the forefront of my grey matter is of an old South African friend of the mid-seventies. Marcel van Heerden, a fellow thespian who I worked with back then. The old photograph I have is of him seated on a throne- sculptured rock high on the northern slopes of the Magaliesberg mountain range to the west of Pretoria.

 It was taken when he led me into that mystic and beautiful mountain range in 1975.

His walking-stick lies across him like a ceremonial baton, my dog on his lap and his mongrel pooch stands at the side.

We had just scaled the southern slope, clambering up a rocky-strewn ravine and the summit was our first rest since we had begun the ascent at eight o'clock in the morning.

It had been an exhausting climb and we both needed a rest before we began our descent through the cavernous rock pools of Tonquani Gorge.

The first pool we reached, about an hour later was a God-sent gift. Our aching and sweaty bodies were quickly stripped and in we plunged. The ice-cold water revitalized our tired muscles and swimming back to lie drying on a sun-soaked rocky platform was one of my best memories of life in the South African bush! 

Marcel told me there three more pools we had to visit before we pitched camp for the night under an overhanging rocky roof where could light a fire and graze.

That was the first time I'd heard the South African colloquial expression for eating and it was then that we developed our understanding of our cultural and social differences.

An important occurrence!

As it was to become the basis for the scene that we co-scripted in the late Barney Simon's innovative production of "Cincinnati", that was about to start rehearsal for performance at the new Market Theatre.

Marcel was a country born Afrikaaner and the city of Johannesburg was a new place to him; I too was a stranger to the city and the whole country, yet on this two-day hike we discovered we had a lot in common.

His grandfather like mine had been a keen vegetable grower, he knew a lot about the geology of the range we were on and I’d studied geology in my last year at school. We both loved food and often ate things and experimented with meats and vegetables we’d never tasted or seen before.

We dived down the gorge from one magnificent rock pool to another our only pause was at the second pool when Marcel’s dog suddenly started barking madly.

The pooch certainly was aware of another presence in the vicinity. Marcel told me to stop moving immediately and surveyed the area paying particular interest in the area right next to the pool. He detected a movement about five metres away from us.

A snake, a Boomslang!

It was about four feet in length, a bright green colour and it moved with the speed of a formula one race car.

“It’s deadly, one bite and you’re a gonner!” said Marcel.

 I instinctively took a step backwards,

“Don’t move!” yelled Marcel. I was petrified.

 Marcel remained frozen and in what can be only thirty seconds the snake disappeared into the surrounding rocks. His pooch stopped barking and Marcel said, “We’re safe now.”

He dived into the rock pool. It took me about a minute to pluck up the courage to follow him. We both surfaced and clambered onto the pool side.

“That was very weird,” he said, “They are usually found in trees! That’s where the name comes from Boom, tree in in English.”

“So, what’s it doing here?”
“Having a drink.”

“Reckon we do the same,” I said as I pulled out two cans of the local larger, Castle, from my back-pack, I opened them and passed one to Marcel, “Cheers, n’ baai dankie” I said trying out my Afrikaans.

Marcel laughed, “’N Rooinek!”
Another novel word, A Red-Neck, an English man, a red neck from the sun!

We moved on down the Tonquani gorge and explored two more magnificent rock pools with waterfalls that provided a route down which you could slide into the lower pool. All the time we were encased in the unassailable cliffs on each side. We selected a flattish rock surface, with an overhang as Marcel had said. We unpacked and pitched camp for the night.

We unloaded our Cadac-gas-burners, one for cooking and one for a night-light and soon we were settled down to eating one of Marcel’s South African creations, mealie pap and a minced stew concoction which I was told was called “Bobotie”, a Cape-Malay dish that was certainly very moreish!

Pap is made by mixing water with dried ground mealies. The secret is to get the right consistency, too much water and its ruined, too little and its inedible. Marcel's creation was perfect; he deftly scooped with his thumb and forefingers just the right amount of Pap on which he adroitly scooped his Bobotie,

He then attempted to teach me the correct way to eat the dish using his two forefingers and thumb. I tackled the procedure but after three failed attempts I returned to the use of fork and spoon. He giggled continuously as the pap and mince fell onto the ground and was immediately gobbled up by our eager pets, even though we had fed them earlier with dog-pellets.

As the evening wore on we chatted and discussed our early lives in our respective hemispheres. Here again our conversation found it’s way into our improvisation of our meeting in the main Johannesburg railway station. Our conversation finally saw the light of day 3 months later in Barney Simon’s production of “Cincinnati” at the Market theatre.

The entire play was created by the eight cast members and Barney over a 2-month improvisional exercise. It went on to be a tremendous success for the “Company” and the newly created Market Theatre playing to full houses for the initial ten weeks run with returns over the years, the last being in the early two-thousands.

With hindsight you could say that part of it came from two young culturally diverse minds grappling with the arduous surrounds of the Tonquani-Gorge in the Magaliesberg Mountain range.

The following morning after a great sleep under the stars, an early plunge and wash in the cascading mountain stream, we packed up all our belongings including rubbish and began climbing out of the gorge back the range’s summit and then our descent on the southern slope back to Marcel’s motorbike, where our weary bodies and two pets, packed in shoulder bags, began our trip back to civilization in Johannesburg.

Since that expedition into Tonquani-Gorge way back in the early seventies, I discovered an entry through the equally marvelous hidden campsite called Mountain Sanctuary Park.

This majestic get-a-way mountain park is accessed by vehicle on the northern slopes of the range and from there you can enter Tonquani gorge if you get the right permit, available at the park.

This exquisite campsite park offers accommodation as well as areas to pitch tents and is now run by Owen and his sister and has wooden and stone cabins to rent as well as campsites offering electricity, a large bathing area with solar heated water, and a magnificent swimming pool overlooking Buffelspoort dam to the North.

It was previously owned by their parents, and had far less to offer, however taking our tents and camping gear along, the place became a hide-a-way for myself, son and daughter through the eighties, nineties, and on into the twenty first century.

Worth a visit!!

For the Memories!

http://www.mountain-sanctuary.co.za/

Please, please comment on the tale either on blog page or Sir Cess Poole's Diaries on Facebook. Thanx!!!

Ony In the New South Africa!!!

This series of events started in last November when I was instructed by my son to prepare myself for the forthcoming marriage of my daughter to the Red Bull Formula One racing car designer, Mr Adrian Newey. The ceremony was to take place in the final days of the month at a cosy restaurant near the town of Franchoek in the Western Cape province of South Africa.

My daughter, Mandy, pre-booked my flight from Johannesburg to Cape Town; they, the bridal couple were arriving in South Africa at Oliver Tambo airport the same day, and I was to accompany them on the same flight from Joburg to Cape Town.

My son was given the job of making sure I was ship-shape and presentable to fulfil my role in the giving away of my daughter. I had to make sure my one-and-only suit, acquired at a reasonable price from the producer of a play I once performed in, was cleaned and pressed, my shoes polished and have a clean white shirt and a dickie-bow. All this I did, but my major problem was not having any luggage, like an overnight case, in which I could transport my required costume to be transported on the flight to Cape Town.

Regarding my suit; it was double breasted and came with waistcoat and I had acquired for a nominal sum from the producer of a play I had been in fifteen years ago, called “Blue Orange”, written by English dramatist, Joe Penhall. It is a very sardonically comic piece which touches on race, mental illness, and 21st century British life, it premiered at the Cottesloe Theatre in April 2000, and starred   Bill Nighy and Chitetel Ejiofor.

I performed it, playing the same role as Bill Nighy, in Johannesburg early in two thousand and three, receiving reasonable reviews, however it was not a box office success and we only ran for six weeks. So, apart from it being one of the most difficult roles I’ve ever played the only other remembrance of the production comes when I wear my acquired “Blue-Orange” suit.

Getting back to the preparation for my daughter’s wedding; my son solved my problem regarding luggage. He told me to nip to my nearest “GAME” store and purchase an over night case with wheels that would be taken as had luggage on my air-trip. This I did. At the age of sixty-nine I became the owner of my first wheeled travel bag and it did not need a padlock as it had its own combination locking device.

This was where the problem started!

Instructions to operate the device could not be found anywhere on the exterior of the case. Tentatively I slid the catch and it opened; exploring the several inner compartments I eventually found the operating instruction for the combination lock.

I fastidiously followed them and set my birth date as the 4 required numbers 0307, the third day of the seventh month. I was a hundred percent sure that I would not forget them. I tested the opening, closing and locking of the case at least ten times and it worked on every occasion. I set it aside.

The day before I travelled I unlocked and opened the case to beginning packing it with what I would require, casual clothes, socks and underpants for six days, toiletries, dressing gown, slippers, freshly polished shoes, a newly washed white shirt, dickie bow, and dry-cleaned suit.

After three or four checks I locked the case.

On arrival at the lodgings that my son had organised for myself and his accompanying new French girlfriend, we discovered that the combination lock would not work with the 0307 birth-date-code!

Luckily, I trained my son well; and in no time at all he brought out his Swiss army knife from his suitcase and we had my overnight case opened and all my smart clothes duly hung in the wardrobe and sock and pants in a cupboard.

I will not go into the wedding festivities and the celebration of my daughter’s fortieth birthday which happened the day after the wedding now but both events went splendidly. Old school friends of my daughter were there, and relations of my ex-wife attended. I had great difficulty in remembering their names as two and a half decades had passed since I had any contact with any of them.

I returned to Johannesburg and on instructions from my son I immediately returned my overnight bag to the Game store as I luckily had retained my purchase slip.

It was in the first week of December, so I knew that I wouldn’t see my case till the end of the following January as South Africa closes for approximately four weeks over Christmas.

On the 25^th on January received a SMS from “GAME” informing me that my repaired case was ready for collection. I went to the store.

	16 Jan (12 days ago)
to me

GAME AND GAME LIQUOR Would like to inform Sir Cess Poole

that your Repair item is back in store awaiting your collection

Automated Message : Do not Reply

Ursula, the lady in charge of customer services, wheeled out the case.

I did the proverbial actors-double-take as it was not mine and, my eyes widened in disbelief. A case three times the size of my case was presented to me! Jet black, mine had been brown.

The majestic suitcase stood on the tiled floor.

Should I? Shouldn’t I? The dilemma of honesty confronted my ageing hard-drive!

I do not possess a large suitcase and the prospect of saying nothing was my first thought. However, as I had to travel to Cape Town in the first week of February for a couple of days filming on an American production I would need an overnight case.

“Show me your slip,” asked the customer service lady.

I duly proffered it.

“Eeh numbers are the same.” she said.

“Well they may be,” I replied, “But it’s not mine. Look, I’ll show you a picture.” I added as I rummaged for my cell-phone.

By now there were three customer service officials hovering, two around the case and the other behind the counter. After a brief conversation in their African tongue, most of which I couldn’t understand, the lady with whom I was originally dealing with announced, “We have a problem.”

I agreed and announced that I had to have a suitcase as I was travelling to Cape town on the 2^nd of February, so I suggested that I take the large case and would return to the store as soon as they informed me they had my case.

Another indaba in their African tongue followed and I was told that this was OK, as long as I signed a document that outlined what had happened. This I quickly did, signed the statement I had made, was given a copy and, e-mailed the photograph of my case from my phone to them, then I departed.

Two days later I received a phone call from customer services telling me they had my case and I must come and collect it as soon as possible because the owner of the large case was going berserk threating legal action against them.

I am now in possession of my case. The only problem remaining is I have lost the instructions on how to operate the combination lock!!!!

New-Fangled-Technology and hard earned cash

So, I start to write in the cloud for the first time.

A weird feeling, before on my computers I could always see a list of my files I'd created and known that they were there on my hard drive. Now I am highly suspicious and harbour the thought that they are not in the ethereal cloud.

I long for the day when the pencil and sheet of paper will return, and pigeons were used for the sending of messages.

 All new-fangled technology frightens me. Maybe it's because I don't understand it or perhaps because in my seventies I'm too old to learn?

I throw this last thought into the dustbin or pray the cloud will delete it of its own accord, as I am still able to rewire an electrical distribution board with my eyes almost closed.

So, I press on putting my thoughts into the cloud and am elated to find the file is still there when I return to it the following morning.

What I find hard to grasp or understand is every time my finger hovers over the screen, particularly on my cell phone, some unwelcome application seems to download itself and gobble up the bytes.

Is this an implanted command by Microsoft or the creators of the millions of Applications available to the unsuspecting public? I believe both Microsoft and the Application-creators are to blame as they will try anything to fleece the public of its hard-earned cash!

I am inviting a computer-savvy youngster for an hour tomorrow to find and install an Application that will prevent any advertisements being shown anywhere on my phone and computer.

If he is successful I will immediately inform you.

Yippee!! Tamas, my friend’s son, was extremely helpful and successful in removing a couple of uninvited applications and he created a desktop shortcut to “My computer” and the “control panel”. A most useful task as I can now easily see what devices are attached to my laptop and transfer files back and forth. Thank you Tamas.

But unfortunately, I’m still a trifle confused.

I now have a Microsoft account, a Skype account, a Mays pharmacy account, an Egoli Gas account, a Telkom account, all with different rule and regulations, and maybe foolishly; I’ve given each of them a different password. To deal with this I’ve created a “passwords” file. Surely it would be more convenient if I had the same password for every account. “No, no!”, scream the computer literate saying, “It will be easy to hack into your accounts”. Sound advice, I think.

But very time consuming for my dear self!

I’ve now been thrown into a complete quandary!

I’ve downloaded a movie making AP called “Easy Movie Maker”.  It says that it is for beginners and is simple to use. I’m now five hours down the proverbial line and I still can’t make head or tail of it! I’ve managed to make 3 “Projects” and I’ve saved them, they appear in a box called “Projects!” But I can find no way to name them!

What is more galling, is the YouTube tutorials for the application are useless!!

Now after ten hours I returned to the FREE application. And discovered it’s not free!! I eventually managed to save a file and give it a name, at least I thought I had. After I clicked on “Submit” button, I was immediately asked for thirty-five Rand, so I closed the application down, only to discover it had not been saved. Money grabbing Arseholes!!!

“Easy Movie Maker” uninstalled and a new free-application downloaded called “Filmora”. I’ve open it once and again run into difficulties so onto the Net again to find a tutorial.

The Bastards!!! “Filmora” just like the “Easy” bunch have now asked that I pay them $36 to gain the full programme and I have only 3 days to give them a credit card number, if I am to make use of their SPECIAL Offer!!!

Sorry “Filmora”, I haven’t got $36!!!!

It is galling to find all these “Free” offers on the Net only to discover a week later that they are not free!!

Surely, they are obliged to let their possible customers know that the deal is only a trial-useage and there will be a demand for payment in a week’s time?

“Filmora’s” deception has caused me to postpone my attempt to find a video-producing AP and I have returned to the one function I am able to understand, which is the writing of these blogs.  But I must admit that confusion is in the air. I have now discovered that my “word” application offers me the choice of writing my blog as either a document or a “Blog”, and yet I can’t fathom out the difference!

Common sense tells me that if I write it as a “Blog” the formatting will work better when I copy and paste it into my blog-post. However, for ten years I have written my blog as a word document and then copied and pasted it. Apart from a few trials and tribulations, as to the size of my font and the placing of a few photographs I seem to have succeeded.

I any of you reading this have any suggestions on this matter, I would greatly appreciate if you could comment at the end of reading on the blog page.

AND it is not just computers and the internet that are dabbling in new-fangled technologies!!

Our local power utility company seems to have entered the fray. Now instead of running their 3- phase supply on 3 separate high-wire street wires they are bungling then together into one. Alright, this prevents falling tree branches snapping the individual phase wire but now that all 3 insulated phases are “bungled” together it has become doubly difficult to trace a short! The reason they offer for the innovation is, “It’s cheaper!”

The medical fraternity is also climbing on the band wagon with new ways to cure our ailments and in some cases, finding new ways to diagnose them.

Recently, while watching Sky News, I learn that using over one thousand diagnosed cancer patients, research was showing that a diagnosis could be found using DNA, the complex building block of our being. DNA is a thread-like chain of nucleotides the genetic instructions used in the growth, development, functioning and reproduction of all known living organisms. Although it will still be some time before the test is used they jubilantly announced that it would cost over three hundred and fifty Pounds Sterling!

Yep, money certainly makes the world go around.

But it won’t make mine, as I have always been a man of limited means, I will rely on the wisdom of my doctor and my memories of my grandfather who went from an agile active sixty-five-year-old weighing over forty stone to a skeleton covered in skin in six weeks way back in the early nineteen-sixties.

A final industry I’d like you to consider is the automobile business. How would you feel in an Autonomous vehicle? It is estimated that by 2020 we'll have cars capable of being fully autonomous in certain circumstances, on highways and roads with a minimal of variables and no bad weather.

Also think about a vehicle that has a keyless entry and you start your car by using your finger-print or a scan of your eyeball.

Finally give a thought to a vehicle that constantly monitors your body keeping a track of all your vital functions. The legendary motor company Ford, is already working on the idea of your seatbelt or steering wheel sensors that track your vital statistics.

Yeah, it’s time we went back to the Russian pen used in space, the pencil and my grandpa’s pidgeons to carry our messages instead of one of these!!

Fortune and The Company's Eyes

So, what now?

You’ve been informed about the acting electricians in the early days of The Market Theatre, I thought it was about time that I told a tale about some actors acting.

This is because of the reaction to my tale about the early days of the Company and the Market Theatre, so I’ve decided that I should take you into one of its old broom cupboards which was upstairs, where today you’d find the wardrobe department.

Back in 1976 it was an empty space that we rehearsed in for the production of “Fortune and Men’s Eyes” with the late Barney Simon, which was to be performed at the Nunnery, a small venue on the campus of Wits University.

The play was written by John Herbert in 1967 and explores a young man's experience in prison, delving into the themes of homosexuality and sexual slavery.

It was based in part by Herbert's own experience; he spent four months imprisoned in a youth reformatory after having been convicted of wearing drag in 1967. The character of Queenie in the play is an authorial self-insertion.

The title comes from Shakespeare’s sonnet 29, which begins with the line "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes".

The characters are “Rocky”, a juvenile delinquent who has been in prison before and knows the ropes, played by the late Bill Flynn. “Smitty”, a new inmate played by Paul Slabolepszy, “Mona”, a fragile possibly gay inmate who has been in for some time, played by Danny Keogh and the transvestite “Queenie”, played by myself. And a fifth character our warder played by Nigel Vermaas.

All were intricate deep characters and each of us knew we were about to embark on some seriously deep challenging work.

Barney was one of my favourite directors and he often said, “You’ve got to find it in yourself!”

His first mission was trying to get us four inmates of the prison to understand what confinement, in a small enclosed space, was really like; and how the feeling would affect our various characters.

To do this, he locked the four of us in the afore-mentioned small old broom cupboard sometimes for a whole day with a short break for a walk, a drink and a urination.

The cupboard had no window, the only visibility out was from the top of the cupboard door which had a slatted ventilation, if this was forced upward we could see the legs of the fifth character in the play, our warden, played by Nigel Vermass, and he was forced to sit outside, also for the whole day, so he could search his inner-self to discover why he was such a vindictive bastard.

One of the longer walls was bare, the other had four sturdy shelves, approximately one metre fifty in length and about forty centimetres in depth or width.

We were all young and fit so in no time at all Dannny Keogh, playing the frail inmate Mona, was soon lying precariously on his back on the topmost shelf, feeling he would get away from the torments that Rocky threw about.

Not to be outdone Bill, as Rocky, climbed onto the third shelf and helped the new inmate Smitty up onto the second.

I have always had an aversion to the smell of breaking wind and in the afternoon, seeing as we’d all eaten baked beans at our fifteen-minute lunch break, bought at the handy Spar market across the road at that time, I knew what was in store.


So, I took the concrete floor and used one of the four blankets Barney had given us. On the floor I could lie either on my back or propped up by an elbow on my side.


My A-level physics had taught me that hot air rises, and it sure did, everything I emitted, and that Paul and Bill released rose up to give poor Danny a torrid time. He complained bitterly and leapt down to breathe the clean air rolling in under the door. He even asked Nigel to get us some fresh air spray.

Of course, Nigel the warder, refused.

Our first stint in the cupboard was from nine thirty in the morning till four thirty in the afternoon, with two five-minute breaks for a drink, a pee, a walk, and a fifteen-minute break for lunch. After that first Monday of rehearsals we all kept our diets free from methane producing products.

Tuesday, we were placed in the cupboard again, same again Wednesday but we were released at five-thirty, Thursday, with an added half an hour and Friday, with another full hour added, but on Saturday morning we read the play! What a relief and all of us agreed that our confinement certainly helped and opened many new avenues for us to explore. Even Nigel, who has only ten or so lines in the piece, was twice as vicious and doubly mean.

On Sunday Barney asked me to pop round to his house. I knew what was coming. How on earth was I going to manage Queenie’s song “A Good Man is Hard to Find”, which he sings at the opening of the second act in full drag.


He gave me a recording of Bessie Smith doing the song. I had already told Barney that I was tone deaf, and I’d caused three singing teachers at RADA to seek Psychiatric help.


Barney immediately gave me a telephone number and said, “Call her, she’s expecting you to call, she definitely can help.”

I called the lady, Irene Frangs, as soon as I got back to my flat in Yeoville.

In the phone call it was arranged that I should pop by her house on Jan Smuts Avenue at three o’clock that Sunday afternoon. I immediately gave her the full run down about my aversion to singing and my inability to hold a tune; I even told how three teachers at RADA had not managed to be successful.

Irene seemed to not hear what I said and asked, “You’re British ja?” This coming from a very large red-haired lady with Greek ancestry was odd.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Recognise this?” as her fingers rippled across the grand piano with the opening chords of the “God save the Queen”.

“Call it an anthem to your character, So, come on belt it out!”

And I did. She helped me along and after we’d done it four times she asked, “Know any other songs?”

“Yep, I had to sing it in a play, The Cuban Missile Crisis, last year back in the UK, I did for Prospect Theatre Company; I played Lee Marvin and had to sing “I was born under a Wandering Star” same way as Lee did.”

The chords played out and off I went and even amazed myself. At the end Irene stood and applauded. “Right Cess, I won’t hear another word about being tone deaf and not being able to sing we’ll have you doing opera next week!” For the next four weeks I visited Irene twice weekly, on Sundays and in the afternoon on Wednesdays.

She adapted the song into Sprechgesang, so that I wouldn’t have to sing but rather speak, as I progressed I found myself naturally hitting the right notes and the dance routine I devised gave the whole drag act a very humourous sexual slant.

For those of you that don’t know the song I’ve downloaded a video of Bessie Lee singing and have given you the lyrics.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZVD8QqNoak

The venue, The Nunnery was very small, but Barney designed a set with the help of Sarah Roberts who also designed the costumes, and selected my very own slinky Drag dress and high heels.

There was raked seating at each end of the oblong hall, in the central area they constructed a cell out of scaffolding; there was one metal door with a spy window through which Nigel could peer through and make sure his prisoners were behaving themselves.

This gave the sense of a very uncomfortable enclosed space. Four bunk beds were attached to the structure at different heights; they were also made of scaffolding with wooden boards and straw mattresses.

Seats for the audience were also available just under the lighting rig, here they sat on boards laid on the scaffolding with their legs dangling into the upper reaches of the cell.

It worked fantastically well, and one hundred and twenty-five patrons made a full-house; some members of the public made a second visit to see the play solely because they wanted to sit in the scaffolding.

We had five weeks of rehearsal working eight to ten hours each day including Saturdays. The get-in weekend was a frantic and hectic time. Mannie Manim designed the lighting, it was very difficult for him as he had to light from all sides of the venue and from above as well. This caused problems for us actors, as we had to constantly aware of casting shadows on each other.

The show received rave reviews from all the newspaper critics and my dragged rendition of “A good man is hard to find” received its own round of cheers and applause.

We played to full houses for six weeks, and if I remember correctly we had a two-week extension. There was talk, when it was discovered that The Nunnery had another production booked in, to find another venue.


Unfortunately, there was not another small venue available, and both Barney and Mannie knew that we would lose that special undefinable effect that The Nunnery had.

So, the production closed.

It hit the headlines again later in the year in all the Johannesburg newspapers, when Paul Slabolepszy won the best actor of the year, the production the best production award and Barney was nominated for the best director; he may even have won it, but my ageing grey matter’s hard drive can not retrieve the information.

Paul went on to even greater things and during the eighties till the present day he has become one of South Africa's playwrights winning numerous awards.

I can however give you the lyrics to Bessie Smith’s song and the text of Shakespeare’s sonnet 29.

A good man is hard to find,
You always get the other kind

A good man is hard to find,
You always get the other kind
Just when you think that he's your pal,
You look for him and find
Him fooling around some other gal
Then you rave,
You even pray,
To see him laying in his grave
So if your man is nice,
You better take my advice
Hug him in the morning,
Kiss him every night,
Give him plenty loving,
Treat him right
Cause a good man now day's is hard to find

So if your man is nice,
You better take my advice
And hug him in the morning,
Kiss him every night,
Give him plenty loving,
And treat him right
For a good man now day's is hard to find

SONNET 29

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.






PS: Now you've read this post, I would like you to comment on it. Say what you really think please. If you read any of the previous tales the same applies. It will be greatly appreciated. Thank you.