Every towering rock needs other rocks to support it. You were that rock for Dad. You stood by him for so many years and never waivered in his support. Through good times and bad. He always told me before I came back to the farm, and even more so once I was back: make sure my relationship with my wife is strong because she will have to carry as much of the burden of farming as I would. He said lean on her as much as you need to, but also be careful not to let it break her. You were that for him. He took this farm from a small holding to a successful dairy farm. He suffered every amount of bad luck in his control and, also what was out of his control, disease, and droughts, you name it. All the while you stood strong by his side and I imagine you provided just the right words and support for him to get up each day and keep fighting. There have been good times and these far outweighed the bad. Now that I follow in his footsteps, I see what he means and I now know how important you were to him and ultimately to this farm. Thank you for being that rock. It is now our turn to be the rocks that support you and please lean on us any time you need!
To Dad:
How do you thank the person that has given you everything? The short answer is that you can’t. You can only hope to continually make them proud and hope every day that you have done enough. As mentioned before, he built this farm up from nothing, it is his life’s work! I get to look after that every days. For now it brings be great sadness that we can no longer do it together, but the joy will eventually return and every day I will work to make him proud.
Dad taught us children so many lessons and instilled so many positive traits. He was truly from the old school and such a gentleman. The underlying tones of the phone calls and messages I have received were of a man that was so respectful, always patient and always happy to listen and offer advice. The world needs more people like this, I hope to be more like this!
When my son was born I named him after my dad, the same way I was named after his. It always and still does give such joy when I meet someone who knew my grandfather and I feel proud to be a part of his great legacy. In the same way I will tell me son stories of his grandfather and hopefully he will have the same joy and pride I do when people stop him and tell him what a proud name he has.
So for now dad you have gone but I know you will have joined a helluva mob up there and having the time of your new life. I don’t plan on seeing you just yet but when I do have the beers ready, there will be a lot to catch up on! I will really look forward to that! I will try to make you proud every day. I hope one day when people talk about me it will be in the same light as they spoke of you. If so then I would have lived a good life.
There once was a little girl who lived on a farm in Lidgetton. She had two feisty brothers and a beautiful mother, and thought her Dad was the bravest, happiest, and most wonderful Dad in the world. They had so much fun and he taught his children to ride bikes, swim, ride horses, play polo, duck dive, shubuluza, and drag behind the bakkies while driving around the farm. It was either that or being made to run all the way home! He instilled in her a love of horses, big skies, open fields, Africa and its culture.
He seemed tireless, and immune to defeat. Once though, the girl saw how her Dad did get tired, and sad. He struggled to keep going. But her mum held his hand, pulled him gently up, and together they were strong again, taking on the world. And she saw how that was true bravery.
As she grew up she started to take note of the more subtle strengths in her Dad. How he treated every person with respect and dignity, because his motto was that you should be able to walk with Kings nor lose the common touch. Nobody was ever judged on first appearances. On how to be generous for the simple pleasure of being helpful, of doing the right thing, and not expect favours in return. On how to be a respectful, dedicated husband and be in love with your spouse decades later. How to love your children unconditionally and treat them like equals, whilst still gently guiding them in life. And how to be a fierce competitor but remain a gentleman. He worked tirelessly, patiently, passionately, to grow a legacy. The girl knew that any future partner in life for herself would be judged by very high standard.
At her matric dance he danced the first dance with her, and he still thought that the chubby and insecure teenager with a horrible sense of fashion, was the most beautiful girl in the room. He walked her down the aisle at her wedding, towards the man of her dreams, and tears of pride were on both their faces. He held his first grandchild with such care, and the world around him was irrelevant for a moment.
Once, while living in a big city, when the girl was all grown up, she was asked during a leadership course to reflect on what a perfect day would be. She found her thoughts back on that farm in Lidgetton, with dogs, horses, grass and sunlight, and love warming every surface. She suddenly yearned to be back in the place that had been the happiest for her, so that when she had a family they could grow up as barefoot children of Africa. Her dream came true… and her Dad had helped make it all happen. She thinks now too… maybe her Dad had the same dream… and maybe his last day on earth was also perfect.
I will miss Dad more than words can say. He was a mentor, motivator, and 5 times Dusi partner. He put up with impatient abuse to paddle harder, run faster, and stop wobbling the boat! All the while paddling with strength and determination like no other. I don’t think I ever gave him the credit due. And gosh did we have fun. And talk. And party. And roar at the stars in Weenen. We had thrilling times playing numerous polo matches, and he made me look so good by putting me on his best horses, and passing me the ball. He had unfailing confidence in us children. He was a business partner, philosopher, and had a deep understanding of the human soul, yet also just loved the simple things; family, the bush, the call of the fish eagle, a good steak and a cold beer. He adored his grandkids, and he was their hero. I will miss his unerring honesty, simplification of complex matters with the most incredible insight, his diplomacy, and I will miss how people’s faces lit up when they learned I was his daughter. Thank you to everyone, on behalf of the family, for the outpouring of love and support. We share this loss together. I could not be more proud, and I will try to live up to his legacy, little by little.
I would like to share two quotes with you. The first from Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, one of Dad’s favourite books that he read to us when we were small:
“My ladies have promised me that I shall never be sold, and so I have nothing to fear; and here my story ends. My troubles are all over, and I am at home; and often before I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Burtwick, standing with my old friends under the apple trees.”
And the second a poem by Percival Gibbon, taken from an old book in the family library which I think was Granny Pat’s – The Centenary Book of South African Verse.
The Veld
Cast the window wider, sonny;
Let me see the veld
Rolling grandly to the sunset
Where the mountains melt,
With the sharp horizon round it,
Like a silver belt.
Years and years I’ve trekked across it,
Ridden back and fore,
Till the silence and the glamour,
Ruled me to the core:
No man ever knew it better;
None could love it more.
There’s a balm, for crippled spirits
In the open view,
Running from your very footsteps
Out into the blue,
Like a wagon track to heaven,
Straight ‘twixt God and you.
So many people have written to us in the last week to express their disbelief of Dad’s death. We have had seemingly countless messages from friends that have offered us support and help in the week gone by and in the time to come. But there have also been messages and tributes from so many people that knew him. There is a constant theme that emerges of Dad’s character: he was an advisor and counsel, a peacemaker and bridge-builder to so many. Dad has had an immeasurable impact on so many people that it will be impossible to know the true extent of his influence.
My relationship with Dad was strained as a teenager, for many reasons. I had no interest in farming, no interest in riding and no interest in the many outdoor pursuits that he took such pleasure in. It was only later in my life, during university, that we began to see things with a common vision and I feel I got to know who he was and what had been happening all those years. In my speech at my 21st birthday, – if you’ll forgive me quoting myself – I said that it had been difficult to see where he was coming from, until I realised that he was right behind me all along.
I will miss his calmness and his practicality, being able to pick his brain about the trials and tribulations of small-hold farming, or about daunting decisions that needed to be made. He would listen carefully to what was on your mind and gently ask some questions to help him understand, and offer some simple advice to allow you to take the next step.
He stood in as a father-figure for Sean when his father didn’t – something that I will be forever grateful for. But as much as I would like to think that this was somehow special and unique, I know that he was also there for so many other people in their times of need, often with nothing more than a little nudge in the right direction. And it has been so often that his nudge turned into something that could be looked back on as pivotal. The stories that we have received over the last week have been evidence to this.
It has become difficult to navigate the world and not see Dad everywhere. His advice has and his love will be sorely missed and it will be hard to navigate the next few weeks and months, coming to terms with a world without him.
He provided Julia, Mike and I with opportunities that we are privileged to have had. From private schooling to somewhat scenic routes through university in my case, and the many other missteps and side paths we’ve taken along the way, he worked hard to ensure that we have had every advantage that was in his power to give us.
But, in spite of the financial sacrifices that he and mum made for us, I think the biggest advantage that Julia Mike and I have had is having a role model to look up to, and aspire to be even a part of the person he was. He was always careful to say that he did not want us to follow in his footsteps, though. He was proud of the very different paths we’ve taken in our lives, the successes that we’ve had, the people that we’ve become, and the families we gathered around us.
In many ways we can’t be sad he’s gone: his life was full and rich. He went quickly and without a fuss – he couldn’t have planned it any better. But we will be sad, and we will all find the big hole he has left in our lives difficult to come to terms with.
Dad, we will miss you.
Rest in peace Patrick, you were one of a kind and brightened up everyone’s world when you were around, always positive and always cheerful. Glad we could share a laugh the afternoon before you were called to the polo field in the sky. I will miss you very much.
With deepest condolences to all the family and extended. It is lovely to read such warm tributes of family members. A true Norton personality. He is going to leave a void in many lives and the Midlands will be all the poorer without him.
Please accept our deepest sympathies on behalf of all the extended Rietvlei Norton’s.
One day a small family came down from the city to live in the Dargle- with some trepidation and nervousness and uncertain of what they might find. It was in the middle of the polo season, so they made their way to the LRPC and found Gidge and Di- who made that small family feel 100% welcome. The Dad joined the polo club, and so did his two daughters, and the Mum learned to bring sandwiches and cakes to tea for the players, and enjoy an occasional G & T on the terrace with Di.
The genuine courtesy, and welcome from Gidge Norton has stayed with me – with us all- as a heart warming memory – its been about 20 years since we first came to live here. It is hard to imagine life without Gidge, his ready smile, sense of humour and utter integrity. His diplomatic skills were put to good use in the polo club and he made sure that even in disputes, people came out of the debates the same good friends as when they went in.
Dear Gidge. We will miss you. Dear Nortons- we are sad with you.
Josie, Gala and Cleo (and wherever Dieter is, I know he feels the same)
To all the family, but especially Deborah, David and Bookie, the only ones that I know,
In the years since I have last met up with any of you I have heard many good things about Gidge. He must have been preteen when I last saw him. He was, indeed, a legend of a man, truly walking in Mike’s footsteps.
My sympathy is extended to all of you. Condolences from Kevin and Carol
My favourite memory of Gidge is one night at the shooting club when I asked him if he was proud of Mike and what he’s accomplished with the farm and in life – the tear in his eye, the smile he gave me told me all I needed to know.
And after this heartfelt moment, he then proceeded to trip me as we walked him across a field home.
Rest in pastures of Peace Gidge. Sending love to the family.
A incredible man was Gidge Norton. He was always great counsel, he knew a bit about every thing, He was well travelled and not least of all he was steadfast on his path. I will miss his companionship in the timekeepers box at Lions River Polo and the many hours we watched polo together, discussing the ways of the world. A giant among men has passed and may his shadow last forever.
He will leave such a huge hole. One of the best men and father figures I have ever had the privilege and honor of knowing. Life will never be the same without you Gidge ❤️.
On Friday evening, Gidge helped Mike load his spare compressor as the regulator on our compressor at the dairy blew. He returned to his armchair & his movie where he died just as he always said he wanted to: quickly; quietly; without frills, fuss or pain; “here one minute & gone the next”. His final act on this earth was helping his son help this farm – his lifeblood & his legacy.
And where has he gone to? I’d like to think he arrived at his version of the pearly gates: a neat, tidy & well crafted post & rail fence & gate, courtesy of Dargle Poles of course. Here he is greeted by long lost friends: Charmer & Dynamite. Flanked by his faithful hounds, he walks into a lush green pasture, a result of the perfect season: just enough, but not too much rain or sun & there he strolls among fat, shiny, happy cows – all in calf, all with heifers.
On the other side of this pasture, he sees a familiar, happy sight: the flat green table top of a polo field & who is waiting for him? None other than Bruzo De Gersigny, tacking up Stardust for friendly chukka or two or three.
After Polo, he heads up to the club where Mudda Joan welcomes him, cold beer at the ready: “Gidgey” she says, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon, but what a sight for sore eyes you are”. Here he’s lovingly embraced by all those who’ve gone before him.
At the end of this day, he returns to his armchair to take watch over Drummond Tor & all of us. And if we listen closely, we’ll hear his whispering.
To my precious husband who has lost his True North, I imagine he’d say: “I am so proud of you. Not just for everything you’ve done & will continue to do with this farm, but also for the gentleman you’ve become. There is nothing more difficult in this world than being a farmer and however tough it may be, believe that I know – You. Are. Tougher. PS. If you can carry the boat for us when we do Dusi together, you sure as hell can carry it for your wife!
To the rest of us: there are 4 things in this life that will change you: love, music, friendship & loss. The first 3 will keep you wild & full of passion. May you allow the last one to make you brave.
Rest easy Gidge, we’ll be brave, we’ll make you proud. ❤
Dear Di, Philip, Julia, Michael and your families,
Saturday the 10th started normally until I received the shattering news of a husband, father, grandfather and friend’s untimely passing. I allowed a day to pass before contacting you and offering my condolences. A day was allowed to pass to give me time to reflect on a friendship that started in 1972 in a food line at 3 South African Infantry Battalion in Potchefstroom………..
Both Gidge and I were in Headquarters Company – he in the anti-tank platoon, me a Vickers machine gunner but had not met until a chance comment in that fateful food line in April of that year by me that “next pass I am going to the best pub in the World, Notties Pub”. “I know that place” said a Robert Redford clone. “Really?” “Yes, I went to Michaelhouse”. Well, the rest is history. I remember in June we had our 7 day pass and a friend Collin Wilson had parked a car in the adjoining Potchefstroom University grounds. We were all loaded onto Bedford trucks to be taken to Potchefstroom station to catch a train to Johannesburg and wait for the Mail train to Durban a good 18 hour trip with stops. Being smart Engelsmanne, Gidge, Colin and I baled at the first opportunity and were in the Green Lantern in Van Reenen (just in Natal) by 1:00 pm. Gidge went to the loo and returned commenting “Its so good to be in Natal where the signs are in English – even the men’s toilet says Gentlemen Here, but I don’t understand why here is capitalized”. There are so many more anecdotes that I could add.
Then it was university, camps with the Carbineers, hockey with Lions River Hockey Club, romance and marriage – I was Gidge’s best man and he, mine, children, ups and downs and grandchildren.
Time has passed far too fast. I last saw Gidge at Robyn’s wedding. We parted with a “see you soon”.
To you all, be strong. I will be meeting Craig tomorrow and we will be raising a glass in memory of a fine man, father, friend and uncle.
To Mum:
Every towering rock needs other rocks to support it. You were that rock for Dad. You stood by him for so many years and never waivered in his support. Through good times and bad. He always told me before I came back to the farm, and even more so once I was back: make sure my relationship with my wife is strong because she will have to carry as much of the burden of farming as I would. He said lean on her as much as you need to, but also be careful not to let it break her. You were that for him. He took this farm from a small holding to a successful dairy farm. He suffered every amount of bad luck in his control and, also what was out of his control, disease, and droughts, you name it. All the while you stood strong by his side and I imagine you provided just the right words and support for him to get up each day and keep fighting. There have been good times and these far outweighed the bad. Now that I follow in his footsteps, I see what he means and I now know how important you were to him and ultimately to this farm. Thank you for being that rock. It is now our turn to be the rocks that support you and please lean on us any time you need!
To Dad:
How do you thank the person that has given you everything? The short answer is that you can’t. You can only hope to continually make them proud and hope every day that you have done enough. As mentioned before, he built this farm up from nothing, it is his life’s work! I get to look after that every days. For now it brings be great sadness that we can no longer do it together, but the joy will eventually return and every day I will work to make him proud.
Dad taught us children so many lessons and instilled so many positive traits. He was truly from the old school and such a gentleman. The underlying tones of the phone calls and messages I have received were of a man that was so respectful, always patient and always happy to listen and offer advice. The world needs more people like this, I hope to be more like this!
When my son was born I named him after my dad, the same way I was named after his. It always and still does give such joy when I meet someone who knew my grandfather and I feel proud to be a part of his great legacy. In the same way I will tell me son stories of his grandfather and hopefully he will have the same joy and pride I do when people stop him and tell him what a proud name he has.
So for now dad you have gone but I know you will have joined a helluva mob up there and having the time of your new life. I don’t plan on seeing you just yet but when I do have the beers ready, there will be a lot to catch up on! I will really look forward to that! I will try to make you proud every day. I hope one day when people talk about me it will be in the same light as they spoke of you. If so then I would have lived a good life.
There once was a little girl who lived on a farm in Lidgetton. She had two feisty brothers and a beautiful mother, and thought her Dad was the bravest, happiest, and most wonderful Dad in the world. They had so much fun and he taught his children to ride bikes, swim, ride horses, play polo, duck dive, shubuluza, and drag behind the bakkies while driving around the farm. It was either that or being made to run all the way home! He instilled in her a love of horses, big skies, open fields, Africa and its culture.
He seemed tireless, and immune to defeat. Once though, the girl saw how her Dad did get tired, and sad. He struggled to keep going. But her mum held his hand, pulled him gently up, and together they were strong again, taking on the world. And she saw how that was true bravery.
As she grew up she started to take note of the more subtle strengths in her Dad. How he treated every person with respect and dignity, because his motto was that you should be able to walk with Kings nor lose the common touch. Nobody was ever judged on first appearances. On how to be generous for the simple pleasure of being helpful, of doing the right thing, and not expect favours in return. On how to be a respectful, dedicated husband and be in love with your spouse decades later. How to love your children unconditionally and treat them like equals, whilst still gently guiding them in life. And how to be a fierce competitor but remain a gentleman. He worked tirelessly, patiently, passionately, to grow a legacy. The girl knew that any future partner in life for herself would be judged by very high standard.
At her matric dance he danced the first dance with her, and he still thought that the chubby and insecure teenager with a horrible sense of fashion, was the most beautiful girl in the room. He walked her down the aisle at her wedding, towards the man of her dreams, and tears of pride were on both their faces. He held his first grandchild with such care, and the world around him was irrelevant for a moment.
Once, while living in a big city, when the girl was all grown up, she was asked during a leadership course to reflect on what a perfect day would be. She found her thoughts back on that farm in Lidgetton, with dogs, horses, grass and sunlight, and love warming every surface. She suddenly yearned to be back in the place that had been the happiest for her, so that when she had a family they could grow up as barefoot children of Africa. Her dream came true… and her Dad had helped make it all happen. She thinks now too… maybe her Dad had the same dream… and maybe his last day on earth was also perfect.
I will miss Dad more than words can say. He was a mentor, motivator, and 5 times Dusi partner. He put up with impatient abuse to paddle harder, run faster, and stop wobbling the boat! All the while paddling with strength and determination like no other. I don’t think I ever gave him the credit due. And gosh did we have fun. And talk. And party. And roar at the stars in Weenen. We had thrilling times playing numerous polo matches, and he made me look so good by putting me on his best horses, and passing me the ball. He had unfailing confidence in us children. He was a business partner, philosopher, and had a deep understanding of the human soul, yet also just loved the simple things; family, the bush, the call of the fish eagle, a good steak and a cold beer. He adored his grandkids, and he was their hero. I will miss his unerring honesty, simplification of complex matters with the most incredible insight, his diplomacy, and I will miss how people’s faces lit up when they learned I was his daughter. Thank you to everyone, on behalf of the family, for the outpouring of love and support. We share this loss together. I could not be more proud, and I will try to live up to his legacy, little by little.
I would like to share two quotes with you. The first from Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, one of Dad’s favourite books that he read to us when we were small:
And the second a poem by Percival Gibbon, taken from an old book in the family library which I think was Granny Pat’s – The Centenary Book of South African Verse.
So many people have written to us in the last week to express their disbelief of Dad’s death. We have had seemingly countless messages from friends that have offered us support and help in the week gone by and in the time to come. But there have also been messages and tributes from so many people that knew him. There is a constant theme that emerges of Dad’s character: he was an advisor and counsel, a peacemaker and bridge-builder to so many. Dad has had an immeasurable impact on so many people that it will be impossible to know the true extent of his influence.
My relationship with Dad was strained as a teenager, for many reasons. I had no interest in farming, no interest in riding and no interest in the many outdoor pursuits that he took such pleasure in. It was only later in my life, during university, that we began to see things with a common vision and I feel I got to know who he was and what had been happening all those years. In my speech at my 21st birthday, – if you’ll forgive me quoting myself – I said that it had been difficult to see where he was coming from, until I realised that he was right behind me all along.
I will miss his calmness and his practicality, being able to pick his brain about the trials and tribulations of small-hold farming, or about daunting decisions that needed to be made. He would listen carefully to what was on your mind and gently ask some questions to help him understand, and offer some simple advice to allow you to take the next step.
He stood in as a father-figure for Sean when his father didn’t – something that I will be forever grateful for. But as much as I would like to think that this was somehow special and unique, I know that he was also there for so many other people in their times of need, often with nothing more than a little nudge in the right direction. And it has been so often that his nudge turned into something that could be looked back on as pivotal. The stories that we have received over the last week have been evidence to this.
It has become difficult to navigate the world and not see Dad everywhere. His advice has and his love will be sorely missed and it will be hard to navigate the next few weeks and months, coming to terms with a world without him.
He provided Julia, Mike and I with opportunities that we are privileged to have had. From private schooling to somewhat scenic routes through university in my case, and the many other missteps and side paths we’ve taken along the way, he worked hard to ensure that we have had every advantage that was in his power to give us.
But, in spite of the financial sacrifices that he and mum made for us, I think the biggest advantage that Julia Mike and I have had is having a role model to look up to, and aspire to be even a part of the person he was. He was always careful to say that he did not want us to follow in his footsteps, though. He was proud of the very different paths we’ve taken in our lives, the successes that we’ve had, the people that we’ve become, and the families we gathered around us.
In many ways we can’t be sad he’s gone: his life was full and rich. He went quickly and without a fuss – he couldn’t have planned it any better. But we will be sad, and we will all find the big hole he has left in our lives difficult to come to terms with.
Dad, we will miss you.
Rest in peace Patrick, you were one of a kind and brightened up everyone’s world when you were around, always positive and always cheerful. Glad we could share a laugh the afternoon before you were called to the polo field in the sky. I will miss you very much.
With deepest condolences to all the family and extended. It is lovely to read such warm tributes of family members. A true Norton personality. He is going to leave a void in many lives and the Midlands will be all the poorer without him.
Please accept our deepest sympathies on behalf of all the extended Rietvlei Norton’s.
One day a small family came down from the city to live in the Dargle- with some trepidation and nervousness and uncertain of what they might find. It was in the middle of the polo season, so they made their way to the LRPC and found Gidge and Di- who made that small family feel 100% welcome. The Dad joined the polo club, and so did his two daughters, and the Mum learned to bring sandwiches and cakes to tea for the players, and enjoy an occasional G & T on the terrace with Di.
The genuine courtesy, and welcome from Gidge Norton has stayed with me – with us all- as a heart warming memory – its been about 20 years since we first came to live here. It is hard to imagine life without Gidge, his ready smile, sense of humour and utter integrity. His diplomatic skills were put to good use in the polo club and he made sure that even in disputes, people came out of the debates the same good friends as when they went in.
Dear Gidge. We will miss you. Dear Nortons- we are sad with you.
Josie, Gala and Cleo (and wherever Dieter is, I know he feels the same)
To all the family, but especially Deborah, David and Bookie, the only ones that I know,
In the years since I have last met up with any of you I have heard many good things about Gidge. He must have been preteen when I last saw him. He was, indeed, a legend of a man, truly walking in Mike’s footsteps.
My sympathy is extended to all of you. Condolences from Kevin and Carol
My favourite memory of Gidge is one night at the shooting club when I asked him if he was proud of Mike and what he’s accomplished with the farm and in life – the tear in his eye, the smile he gave me told me all I needed to know.
And after this heartfelt moment, he then proceeded to trip me as we walked him across a field home.
Rest in pastures of Peace Gidge. Sending love to the family.
A incredible man was Gidge Norton. He was always great counsel, he knew a bit about every thing, He was well travelled and not least of all he was steadfast on his path. I will miss his companionship in the timekeepers box at Lions River Polo and the many hours we watched polo together, discussing the ways of the world. A giant among men has passed and may his shadow last forever.
He will leave such a huge hole. One of the best men and father figures I have ever had the privilege and honor of knowing. Life will never be the same without you Gidge ❤️.
On Friday evening, Gidge helped Mike load his spare compressor as the regulator on our compressor at the dairy blew. He returned to his armchair & his movie where he died just as he always said he wanted to: quickly; quietly; without frills, fuss or pain; “here one minute & gone the next”. His final act on this earth was helping his son help this farm – his lifeblood & his legacy.
And where has he gone to? I’d like to think he arrived at his version of the pearly gates: a neat, tidy & well crafted post & rail fence & gate, courtesy of Dargle Poles of course. Here he is greeted by long lost friends: Charmer & Dynamite. Flanked by his faithful hounds, he walks into a lush green pasture, a result of the perfect season: just enough, but not too much rain or sun & there he strolls among fat, shiny, happy cows – all in calf, all with heifers.
On the other side of this pasture, he sees a familiar, happy sight: the flat green table top of a polo field & who is waiting for him? None other than Bruzo De Gersigny, tacking up Stardust for friendly chukka or two or three.
After Polo, he heads up to the club where Mudda Joan welcomes him, cold beer at the ready: “Gidgey” she says, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon, but what a sight for sore eyes you are”. Here he’s lovingly embraced by all those who’ve gone before him.
At the end of this day, he returns to his armchair to take watch over Drummond Tor & all of us. And if we listen closely, we’ll hear his whispering.
To my precious husband who has lost his True North, I imagine he’d say: “I am so proud of you. Not just for everything you’ve done & will continue to do with this farm, but also for the gentleman you’ve become. There is nothing more difficult in this world than being a farmer and however tough it may be, believe that I know – You. Are. Tougher. PS. If you can carry the boat for us when we do Dusi together, you sure as hell can carry it for your wife!
To the rest of us: there are 4 things in this life that will change you: love, music, friendship & loss. The first 3 will keep you wild & full of passion. May you allow the last one to make you brave.
Rest easy Gidge, we’ll be brave, we’ll make you proud. ❤
Dear Di, Philip, Julia, Michael and your families,
Saturday the 10th started normally until I received the shattering news of a husband, father, grandfather and friend’s untimely passing. I allowed a day to pass before contacting you and offering my condolences. A day was allowed to pass to give me time to reflect on a friendship that started in 1972 in a food line at 3 South African Infantry Battalion in Potchefstroom………..
Both Gidge and I were in Headquarters Company – he in the anti-tank platoon, me a Vickers machine gunner but had not met until a chance comment in that fateful food line in April of that year by me that “next pass I am going to the best pub in the World, Notties Pub”. “I know that place” said a Robert Redford clone. “Really?” “Yes, I went to Michaelhouse”. Well, the rest is history. I remember in June we had our 7 day pass and a friend Collin Wilson had parked a car in the adjoining Potchefstroom University grounds. We were all loaded onto Bedford trucks to be taken to Potchefstroom station to catch a train to Johannesburg and wait for the Mail train to Durban a good 18 hour trip with stops. Being smart Engelsmanne, Gidge, Colin and I baled at the first opportunity and were in the Green Lantern in Van Reenen (just in Natal) by 1:00 pm. Gidge went to the loo and returned commenting “Its so good to be in Natal where the signs are in English – even the men’s toilet says Gentlemen Here, but I don’t understand why here is capitalized”. There are so many more anecdotes that I could add.
Then it was university, camps with the Carbineers, hockey with Lions River Hockey Club, romance and marriage – I was Gidge’s best man and he, mine, children, ups and downs and grandchildren.
Time has passed far too fast. I last saw Gidge at Robyn’s wedding. We parted with a “see you soon”.
To you all, be strong. I will be meeting Craig tomorrow and we will be raising a glass in memory of a fine man, father, friend and uncle.
Kindest regards,
Peter