Zambia in 1964, having recently broken away from colonialism, President Kaunda in power and plenty of money flowing from the copper mines; was a veritable paradise for young and ambitious artisans and a small girl and her slightly off – key, older brother. Our parents enjoyed a wonderful spirit of adventure and were continually dragging us on trips all over Africa and back and forth to England, thereby broadening our horizons and young minds immensely.

We had come to Africa from a small mining town in Yorkshire, my Grandfathers were both coal miners, my mothers brothers were coal miners, everybody was a coal miner, hell I was a “Coal Miners Daughter”. True to form though, this was not enough for daddy there was no way he was going to spend his entire life being a coal miner so he studied and worked and obtained his electrical and mechanical engineering something-or-other.  He married my mother, they became parents to my brother about nine months to the day after they got married; I came along about 18 months later, then Mummy and Daddy decided to join the hoards of other young sun seeking, money seeking, colonialists to enjoy the fruits of his labour in a more rewarding, both financially and climatically environment; the Mufalira Copper Mine, Zambia; former Northern Rhodesia.

When people ask me where I was born and I reply “Havercroft” the general reaction is “where… Hovercraft, I thought that was a vehicle for transporting people over the English Channel, were you born in one?” Sigh….I gave up a long time ago, so much so that I don’t even bother any longer I just say Yorkshire or the North of England; the inevitable reply to that is “but you don’t have an accent?” of course not fool, I have lived in Africa most of my life! In fact Africa is my life, I could not dream of living anywhere else more exotic and exciting in the world.

Initially we were housed in a series of transit flats and houses, the first being a flat, and then an old mining house, a typical type of African mine house built low, with the heat in mind, it had large rooms and windows with stone floors and a stoep or patio that caught the breeze running across the front, its floor polished to gleaming like a ruby with a particularly awful red polish. I remember sitting on the floor and my dress and panties would be red, my feet would get red if I walked barefoot on those floors, and I was always barefoot. Everywhere you went in or outdoors the house smelled like red polish. Incidentally I recently (2 months ago) moved into a house that has a red stoep, but I have white carpets and I know better than to polish my stoep with red polish.

I have no idea why concrete stoeps were painted and polished red, it was the most impractical of colours, I do however remember some being black or green; much more practical colours they were, but most stoeps were red. I was fascinated by watching my nanny (her name was Aggie but we called her Eggy, because that was how she pronounced her name) polish the stoep. The polish came in a big round tin (we can still purchase that polish here in Africa). She would first put the polish on the floor with a cloth and then attach two large brushes (like scrubbing brushes but with a broad, oval shaped flat back and a strap across the middle) to her feet, by placing her feet under the straps. She would then proceed to ice skate across the stoep with the brushes. I was so envious it looked like so much fun and she could get that stoep shining in minutes, I used to beg and plead with her to let me try, but it never worked for me, the brushes just used to stick to the polish on the floor and all I could get  my skinny four year old legs to do was jerky half stuck motions, often overbalancing and landing on my bum in the sticky red polish; with the added indignity of having Eggy pick me out of the polish like a fly off fly paper. There was to be no gliding across the floor like an elegant black ice skater for me. At least there was some consolation she let me sit on her back while she was on her hands and knees spreading polish on the floor. So even though I could not grasp the dream of being an Olympic ice skater, I had the opportunity of dreaming of being a great equestrian. I loved Eggy, she always knew how to make me feel better.