DAVID ISAACSON | Life’s a beach, so don’t let it pass you by

Many kids have played every sport possible on the beach at the sleepy seaside village of Fish Hoek on the Cape Peninsula.

And in the coming summer holiday hundreds — if not thousands — of youngsters will be showing off or trying out their skills on the soft sand nestled along the stretch of coastline just around the corner from Kalk Bay.

It’s always been a popular destination during the festive season for young and old. One can swim in the waves and play on the beach or partake in more sedentary activities such as walking on the beach or the catwalk.

And if that’s too much, there’s always the local restaurant, with floors splashed by sand brought in unwittingly by customers who get to enjoy a great view of beach, sea and mountains in the distance.

Get there early enough and it’s enhanced by the sunrise.

Having grandparents who lived across the road from the beach, I spent many holidays in Fish Hoek, or using it as a lunch stop on weekend cycles.

I got to thinking about it recently after chatting to former Bafana Bafana star Matthew Booth, a native of the village who spent much of his free time at the beach playing cricket, touch rugby and football.

“That’s where I lost all my hair,” he joked, “in the southeaster”.

One has to wonder, idly, how many future sports stars will be in action on the sands in the next month or two. Sports minister Zizi Kodwa said on Tuesday that the department’s school sports plan was taking shape and hopefully they will be able to create a proper pipeline for talent and plan for the future.

It was as if I was looking into the future, rich and plentiful and full of second chances. I guess back then each day seemed so long that the future was not much beyond tomorrow.

One Fish Hoek reminisce, dating back to junior school, was me floating on a polystyrene surfboard just beyond the breakers looking ahead at the clear dark-blue sky to the right of Hangklip. 

It was as if I was looking into the future, rich and plentiful and full of second chances. I guess back then each day seemed so long that the future was not much beyond tomorrow.

It was so easy making friends back then. One one-day friend told me confidently how the day before he had played with my younger brother who had jumped off the top of the slide. That didn’t sound like my brother at all. He was as circumspect as I was.

A day or two later I came across a kid who looked like I did in photographs when I had been four. He was my doppelgänger, though I didn’t feel comfortable approaching him to find out who he was. 

Then came another memory from a later period in time, of an old lady my late mother had dubbed the blue fairy, because she always wore the same blue coat.

My mom and her sister often spotted the blue fairy at the restaurant, drinking tea and always writing busily into a notebook. “I wonder what she’s writing,” mom used to ask. 

The blue fairy came into our consciousness only after I had moved to Johannesburg. 

When I was down on brief sojourns, whether for work or a week away, we would head to Fish Hoek for breakfast. 

On the occasions that we saw her, the blue fairy, in her coat, would be sitting at a table, scribbling away. She always smiled widely when talking to the waitress or greeting a passer-by. 

I think it was in 2000 that we were at the restaurant and we happened to find ourselves seated at a table next to the blue fairy, who sat by herself, writing away.

There was a crowd of us at the table that day and at one point I stood up and caught sight of what the old lady was writing. There was no mystery, only wretched sadness.

The two pages I saw were full of motivational quotes like “be strong”, “don’t stop smiling”, and so on.

The blue fairy was a soul trapped in deep solitude, almost invisible to the people going about their lives around her, trying to keep herself going.

There had been a time when she was always in the company of a friend, who presumably had died and left her alone in a busy world. 

I couldn’t invite her to join our table that day because we were full up and enjoying a family catch-up, but once we had left the restaurant I told my family what I’d seen and suggested they invite her to join them the next time they saw her.

I had resolved to do that the next time I visited Fish Hoek, but there was no second chance. 

I never saw her again.