Memorable moments: The Paarl Gymnasium massacre

Growing up, my mother was the silent, steady heartbeat of my rugby career. I have the most heart-warming memories of her standing in the pouring rain, huddled under an umbrella, cheering us on through every muddy scrum and sodden tackle. Her love was as consistent as the Cape winter weather.

But there was one fixture on the annual calendar for which her nervous system was simply not equipped: the away match against Paarl Gymnasium.

Paarl Gym was an Afrikaans powerhouse out in the country, and to our prep school eyes, they didn't look like children—they looked like a different species. They towered over us, their forearms the size of our thighs. We were convinced they’d been raised on a strict diet of boerewors and biltong instead of breast milk. For them, winning wasn't just a goal; it was existential.

I have a vivid, slightly traumatic memory of three of us desperately clinging to a single Paarl player, hitching a collective piggyback ride as he thundered toward the try line, completely indifferent to the extra weight of three terrified schoolboys.

And then there were the fathers.

The Paarl dads didn't just spectate; they participated. Many of them wore the exact same rugby kit as their sons, looking like older, angrier versions of the giants on the field. During one particularly lopsided encounter, I saw a father reach down, rip a side flag out of the turf, and begin stabbing the ground with it in a rhythmic frenzy.

"Moer hulle, seuns!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Murder them, boys!"

Needless to say, the score was always catastrophically one-sided. I don’t think we ever managed to cross their try line, let alone win a match. I never blamed my mum for sitting those ones out. While she was happy to watch us get wet in the rain, she drew the line at watching us get systematically dismantled by teenage titans while their fathers reenacted medieval battle cries on the touchline.

Memorable moments: The Willow Road olympics

During the years Russell and I were housemates at Willow Road, the house became a laboratory for high-stakes, low-budget adrenaline. We didn't need a gym; we had a three-seater couch and a dangerous amount of competitive energy.

Our Couch Jumping competitions were a masterclass in poor risk management. The goal was to clear the entire length of the sofa in a single leap, which required a massive run-up and a violent "emergency brake" landing. We’d stick the landing, panting and triumphant, with our toes skidding just inches away from a literal death plummet off the balcony.

Then there was the day of the Garden Cane Duel.

Dressed in our bathrobes—which felt appropriately "regal" for the sport—we engaged in a ferocious fencing match. We weren't just poking; we were really laying into it. Russell landed several sharp, swishing blows across my shoulders that stung like a swarm of hornets.

Determined to counter, I swung back with a lucky—though profoundly unlucky for him—swish that caught him squarely across the nipple. The resulting yelp of agony was instantaneous. We were doubled over, a mess of terry cloth and bamboo, caught in that strange space between genuine pain and hysterical laughter.

It was at exactly this moment that Russell’s brother, Roger, walked in.

He stood in the doorway, staring in genuine horror at two grown men in bathrobes, armed with sticks, sweating, and clutching their injuries in a living room that looked like a disaster zone.  We tried to explain the "logic" of the match—the rules of the bathrobe-fencing and the strategic importance of the couch-jump—but I think he realized then what we already knew: at Willow Road, if it wasn't slightly dangerous or entirely ridiculous, it wasn't worth doing. 

Memorable moments: The gangly champion

In my early school days, I was the quintessential nerd—more likely to be found in the library than on the rugby pitch. My athletic career started with a distinct lack of promise; I spent my first few rugby matches standing aimlessly on the field, sucking my thumb while my mother watched from the sidelines in a state of terminal embarrassment.

But in Standard 3, aged 10, my gangly, awkward frame suddenly found its purpose. I discovered I could leap. I could leap high, and I could leap far.

That year, for the first time in my life, I wasn't just "the smart kid." I won the high jump and the long jump for my age group. Then, feeling bold, I competed in the age group above mine—and I won both of those, too. I spent the rest of the day vibrating with the anticipation of the prize-giving ceremony.

I went up twice to collect my cups for my own age group. Then came the awards for the seniors. The presenter looked at the list, squinted, and frowned. He looked at me, looked back at the paper, and decided there had clearly been a massive administrative mistake. No one "nerdy" could possibly sweep two age groups.

He skipped the award entirely. I sat back down, trophy-less and invisible once again.

It was a crushing disappointment, but I eventually found my redemption. A few years later, I walked back up to that stage to receive the award for "Most Improved Rugby Player." I had finally traded my thumb for a tackle—and this time, they didn't need a calculator to believe it.

25th game of tennis

Rajesh and I just celebrated our 25th game of tennis together. We are getting better and better and having some titanic rallys and wonderfully close matches. We are both utterly hooked. It's been so much fun. 

Playing tennis at Rajesh's new home

Rajesh's new flat has a tennis court and we've started playing on Wednesday evening. I couldn't be more thrilled. I love tennis so much and have really missed playing since my prior tennis partner, Brendan, left Sydney several years ago. 

After the tennis, we have been going to the pub for a meal. They do a Thai Beef salad that is absolutely to die for.

Table tennis with Chris

Chris and I have loads of fun playing table tennis. And we're getting quite good!

 

Playing croquet in Coogee

Great fun with lots of laughs.

Playing table tennis with Chris

There is a table tennis table under the Harbour Bridge and Chris and I have been making the most of it.  So much fun.

Tennis

Brendan and I played tennis again today.  We're so evenly matched and had a great titanic battle.  So much fun.  And lovely in the sunshine.

Volleyball on Camps Bay beach

Brendan and Eva were in Cape Town at the same time as me, so we organised a big game of volleyball on Camps Bay beach.  All the old volleyball crowd came, and Russell and Heather joined us too.  So much fun!!  I impressed everyone with my power serve, great to find out I haven't lost it even after over 10 years of non use.

Two Ocean's Fun Run

I had every intention of keeping up with my little nephew on this 5 km fun run but after 5 minutes I realised that was going to be impossible!  So I took it easy and enjoyed walking and chatting with Jo, punctuated by some occasional running.  We didn't break any speed records, but thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere.  And we had enough energy to sprint the last 100 metres to the finish in front of all the crowds!!

My new toy

Yes, we have now got a paddle ski to add to our beach toys. We took it to Dee Why Beach to try it out and had tons of fun. Its great to be back in a city with wonderful beaches. Didn't realise how much I missed it in the UK. Those English beaches just weren't the same!

Getting out to sea was pretty hard at times with big waves to get over !



It was not always graceful. Nothing like a mouthful of sea water!


PS Thanks to Ally for taking the photos

Cheshire Triathlon

Doing a triathlon was a life goal for both of us. Despite our rather lax training, we did rather well. 250 metre swim, followed by a 20 km cycle and a 2.5 km run. A great sense of achievment afterwards - and I'm now motivated to attack a longer in a couple of months time. Colleen did it with us while Steve supported with gusto. He's going to do it next time too. A great day out.

Unwinding after. Silly devils through bread.

Our new Audi: Ally got to borrow an Audi A4 from work for the weekend so we drove up to Cheshire in style. We could rather get used to a car like this!

Serving up a storm

I had fun tonight. Went to the "tennis extravagana evening" at the gym. All the tennis enthusiasts (must have been over 50 of us!) at the gym met up with all the tennis coaches and we did fun exercises accross 9 courts.

I was a bit nervous about going because my tennis is still rather shaky and i'm struggling with the new technieques i've been taught. it's like being a beginner again. Still, i needn't have worried - we were at all levels and there was a friendly, jovial atmosphere about.

One thing i can do is serve. While i struggle to get my forearm balls to go anywhere but in the net or catapaulting to the roof, my serve seems to just go in. So i was delighted to discover that one of the exercises was "fastest serve competition" They had one of those speed monitor things that tells you how many miles an hour an hour your ball flew over the net. The winner was 95 miles an hour. I managed 87 miles an hour - which i was very chuffed with. I also managed to hit the hardest shot of my group (over 100 miles) but it didn't go in unfortunately!! As my tennis coach said "If i can manage to get those in all the time, i needn't worry to much about my faulty forearm.

Still, it's all coming on (i only stated a few weeks ago) and I'm having fun. Also meeting lots of great people. Ally's tennis is also coming on in leaps and bounds.

Memories of playing rugby at school

• Jenny Mallet's barefoot brigade (aged 6).
• My first match (against Rondebosch).  Getting under the ruck. Apparently I sucked my thumb, much to mum's embarrassment.
• Mum coming to watch all my matches, come rain or shine.
• Having a long bath after a match.
• Playing lock in the earlier days. Later I moved to flank.
• Orange segments at half time.
• A rugby tour to Port Elizabeth.
• Being trained by David Mallet, Jenny and Nick Mallet's brother.
• Being trained by Spencer King. Running up and down the hill. Spencer often yelled so loudly, the local neighbours complained. Practice tackling of the biggest boy in the team.
• Scoring a try against a really tough team. I was the only member in the team to score a try that day.
• Playing ill. Spencer was impressed.
• Winning an award for "Most improved rugby player".
• In my later years at school, I did not play rugby due to Scheuermann's disease. I was sad at the time but in retrospect, it was the right decision. Thank you mum!