I am a product of the old South Africa. By that I mean that I was born in a time when the old regime recorded history according to them. There was so much wrong with it, yet there was so much right about it. Before you call me out and socially ostracize me, let me explain as best I can. Because, you see, it is complicated.

For far too many years, I hung onto stuff, and so, for a reason I can’t explain, I hung onto my old school blazer and the school’s old year books. The blazer eventually went where old blazers go to die. I paused at the year books. First, I tried to find myself in the photos. That should be easy, I hear you say, except, some of the photos were so faded, that even the obvious took a while to find. And then, the realization that, with hindsight, I did look completely different to how I saw myself at that age. Looking at my very faded image, I thought what a little person I was! Yet, at that age, I recall thinking that I was fat. My self-image, I now realise, was quite distorted. Even in the photos it was clear, I was never going to fit the mould that was allocated to me. At school, in those years, for 2 periods a week, the whole school had cadets. The boys wore Khaki uniforms, and the girls their school dresses, on cadets day. And what did we do for those two periods (or 80 minutes, I seem to recall). We marched. Yes. Like little soldiers. Left and right, and halt-stuit-een-twee, when we came to a stop. We stood to attention, and we stood at ease, and we did the “verpas”. That is when you fall out of formation. The only way you could get out of this ordeal, is if you either fainted from standing in the blazing sun for too long, or if you volunteered for the First Aid Team. Needless to say. I got my St John’s First Aid diploma at school.I found the gap and I took it.

On the other hand, growing up when I did, also had advantages. We grew up knowing “stuff.” Television was very new to this country. Viewing options were limited, and we watched everything! A lot of what came onto our screens, were dubbed, mostly from Dutch or English. The whole family would line up on the couch the moment we heard the theme song. But it taught me things. It taught me about countries far away, their people and culture. These shows also had generic theme music, like a piece of classical music, which introduced me to Verdi and Mozart, although this realization only came later.

Local content was shows like Gé Sing. It featured the very dashing Gé Korsten, traveling to Amsterdam or Venice. Here he would ride a gondola or cycle a bicycle, all the time singing music that became part of my make up. Or we watched Edwil van Aarde. He hosted a quiz show, called Flink Dink. Again, we all watched it. And it taught us stuff. Things like boxing. In this past week, I was chatting to a 30-something person. I am not sure how we got onto the subject of boxing, but we did. A bit of general chit chat later, Young Person said to me, I did not for a moment imagine you would know so much about boxing. Really? I know stuff about boxing? I thought everybody knew the things we just discussed. Yes. Everybody from my generation, because we watched Flink Dink and another lighthearted TV quiz show, called Turn on the Telly. Our world was small. Our minds were controlled, our opinions were squashed, our developing attitudes were thoroughly brainwashed. But we grew up knowing about stuff. We were educated, no Soapies or 21 seasons of Vikings for us. Our controlled minds were kept pure and factual.

One of the things I know a lot about is that disaster never strikes when you expect it, or at a convenient time. Have you ever heard your neighbour telling you how their geyser happened to burst at 08H30 on a Monday morning, just as the plumber happened to drive by their house? NO. Geysers burst at 10h00 on a Sunday morning when the entire family is out doing what families do on a Sunday at 10H00.

What fun is there in developing toothache around the time you are booked with the dentist for your annual checkup. No. Toothache comes around at some random time of night, when the whole world is asleep and you are alone in rummaging through cupboards, looking for your hot water bottle, that you know you packed away somewhere. The next morning, having navigated the Medical Aid App, I finally found the name of a network dentist. Yup. That is the world we live in now. Network Dentist has his regular patients. They take preference, and this Chancer, who thinks she can just phone up and demand an appointment, well, she can wait her turn. And so, I waited out my turn with my two companions: pain killers and a newly purchased hot water bottle. Once I finally made it to the dentist’s chair, I was not given much of a chance to describe my symptoms. Oh, no. There is a very modern, swing-about-your-head-while-you-bite-down-on-a-plastic-tube x-ray machine. Some time later, the doctor – having studied my poor little teeth in all their naked glory, completely stripped of gums and lips, on the x-rays, pronounced his prognosis. As I opened WIDE and got ready to keep my mouth open, I got handed a prescription for Penicillin. Apparently, it was not a cavity that caused the pain, but some infection. I got home and Googled the pills I had just been prescribed. It is used to treat everything from Syphilis to Ear, Nose & Throat infections. Oh, golly. If there is a bug lurking in my system, it is doomed. I must admit, though, the pills do help. One day later, and the pain is all but gone. By the end of this week, I will find the hot water bottle I could not find a week ago, when I pack the new one away in the same place.

Modern technology is fantastic stuff. It can sniff out an infection, where 20 years ago, another dentist would have filled a cavity. But I am glad that I grew up at a time when we knew stuff.

I am going to have some fun with Young Person. Not only do I know things about boxing, I also know about wrestling. Not the WWE type of wrestling. The more traditional type where it looks like the wrestlers are wearing Borat swim suits. These suits are called a singlet. The one opponent in red, and the other in blue. And there are rules, unlike WWR. I know this because I watched Flink Dink every week and I learnt stuff I never imagined I would need to know.