Winter in the Cape is my favorite season…..apart from the diminished turnover and permanent damp feet, it’s a great time to be in landscaping business. Well…….. at least, that’s what I was taught.
There is nothing better than clutching a goblet of the Capes finest next to a warm fire discussing the merits of organic versus chemical fertilizer after having had called it a day due to the rain.
It seems that I did a lot of that in my formative years – my boss at the time had an intense love affair with dry red wine but was often short of a drinking partner.
Picture the scene. Here’s yours truly, freshly returned from a couple of years of gardening in London, long hair and a head full of dreams. I get hired by a landscaping company and on the first day get the keys for the bakkie with a list of tasks for the day…….hmmm…..I read it again….only one task, surely not.
Suddenly, the naked truth dawns. I have been hired to drive, chaperone and babysit the wayward boss. Did I really believe that my outstanding, cutting edge design ideas were the reason ???
I pitch up at the old boys house to collect him, nervous as hell – he appears, battered briefcase in one hand, a rolled up plan in the other, off we go, the old Hilux burping in the winter cold as we take off.
“Who are you lad” he peers over his grubby specs from behind his Cape Times…..” I hear you’ve been in landscaping in London…..dont get clever with me…OK ?”
Now I am really nervous.
First job – Planting “street” trees for the city council. Remarkably everything is in order as we arrive at the site. Dozens of square tree holes perfectly spaced down the road verge, each one punctuated by a small heap of compost. No trees yet.
I am watching with interest as the old boy goes about his job, issuing crisp instructions, perusing the plan. He sends me off to buy coffee and run an errand.
By the time I get back the truck has arrived and the trees are being positioned, I jump in and help manhandle the unwielding wire basketed plants in place, being careful not to show too much iniative within the hive of activity that the site has become. It starts to rain.
A while later I hear his voice booming across the site….“Wheres my driver ???………come on my boy….stop dawdling….its raining……lets go” – I spring to attention, fire up the Hilux and follow his directions.
“Good to see you working, boy” he addresses me in a softer tone. That’s was a good move helping with the trees, I think to myself.
Twenty minutes later after numerous back street diversions, we roll up outside a pub. “ Right” he says…..” time for a drink”….I glance at my watch, its only just gone noon. “What are you having boy?”
By two o’clock I am happily squiff eyed and the old boy is steadily knocking back glasses of house red as if its raspberry juice. Its still raining.
“Don’t worry about the site” he keeps telling me as he orders another round, “we will just get in the way……we must be back at 3 for a meeting”
I think he heard me gulp…..a meeting ???? …..in this state……I ask.
“Yes “ he says “ we must get this batch of the trees signed off before we knock off, otherwise they will get stolen”
I am confused.
Spot on three pm we arrive back on site, myself having driven with one eye closed whilst the old boy had a nap. He bounces out the bakkie as if he has just stepped out of gym, and strides across the site with vigour. All the trees are planted, staked and watered and the workers are packing up. Its been a crappy day to work outside and old boy is happy.
“Righty o then” he chirps “ Lets go and find the Quantity Surveyor and get this signed off”……… “ You ….boy” he looks at me” wait here till I come back - and don’t let anybody steal the trees” and he jumps in the truck with workers, leaving me to guard the trees.
Thank God I was drunk. Mitchells Plain in the 1980’s wasn’t a very welcoming place, especially when was protecting a bunch of valuable trees with not even a pea shooter for protection. All ended well and it seemed this was a daily occurrence. The QS arrived in his yellow rainsuit, signed the trees off and we all went home. Needless to say the trees were recycled over night into various private gardens and the boss got paid again. I was never sure if he was in on the recycling deal – it all seemed far too slick.
I learnt so much from the old boy. He would never make a call on a rainy day before 10h30, he was right, so often in Cape Town the rain dries up in the morning, but at the same time that decision has to be site and task specific. Working a wet site can set you back days, but a drizzle is great for planting. He never taught me many plant names or specifics, but he taught me how to communicate, how to handle clients, how to keep employees happy and how to sniff out new work . Oh…..and did I tell you he taught me how to drink ??
Craig Dunlop
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