I think it was that year that we had a combined family outing - some Wilsons and some Wellses motored to George and Knysna, picnicking every day and spending nights at hotels. The many gates to be opened and closed in the Mossel Bay area were a nuisance, but we all enjoyed the trip. Dad, a strict teetotaller, ragged George Wilson on his insistence on a bottle of beer every lunchtime.

Some Saturday afternoons Dad would suggest a drive - I always plumped for Glencairn, our bathing box and a swim, but I didn�t always win as Mother preferred country to sea. Taking a picnic tea, we drove in many directions over passes and through the lovely scenery. For Mother a favourite was Durbanville with its avenue of gum trees. Or we had tea in the Round House in Camps Bay Glen, or at the Red Roof tearoom at Fish Hoek, or at a special place at Ronde Vlei run by impecunious friends of the parents. We also drove to KIipheuvel to visit the Stewarts� farm which Alastair took over on the death of his father, while his brother Donald was later to go as a lecturer to Fort Hare.

Some time about now, when I was recovering from �flu, Mother decided that a few days at the seaside would be good for me, so I went to St James� Hotel for two nights. I took it all in my stride, but remember being a bit bored. At dinner the waiter put fruit on my table, and I decided to have some pineapple and took off the spiny top and dug my fork well into the shell, thinking how lovely to have a whole pineapple to myself. Imagine my embarrassment when I found I had speared about six finely cut slices and realised that I was meant to take one slice only!

Another time Mother took Mrs Whyte, wife of the Rev. Robert, Minister of St Andrew�s Church, Sea Point, and me for a few days to Glencairn Hotel. Mrs Whyte commented on my young unmarked feet, and Mother said: "I should hope they�d be a good shape at her age."

In January 1929 I was at Guide Camp when Matric results came out and we anxiously scanned the Cape Times when the results were published. It was a relief that I had passed, but I was disappointed with my symbols for my Second Class pass: A for English, B for French, and C for Maths were acceptable, but D for Latin was a shock as I was good at it, but our teacher had left just before the last term and we had an odd woman, Jean Ran Rin Pollock, to teach us, probably a brilliant classical scholar but not a good teacher - and with her flying white hair and airy manner we flopped. A D in History was also a blot and as for an E for botany: Oh dear! I should have done better.

In February I went to stay with my school friend Daphne Harris on their farm outside Kimberley. I went on my own by train, feeling very venturesome. I saw a lot of her brother Brian - a brief attraction - as we rode round the farm, and after this visit I decided that I would NEVER marry a farmer.