dedicated to doc

I’m sad today. Been crying all morning, actually.
My best friend is flying out of Johannesburg as of this minute, to live in Delhi for two years. I never really thought this day would actually come – so much has been happening, the future was always just out of reality’s grasp.

Doc, I’m going to miss you so much. Who am I going to go on Johannesburg adventures with? Who will I talk to about if black holes really exist and is Stephen Hawking actually just bullshitting everybody? Here’s to being the best friend I ever could have hoped for. You’re going to be great over there. Those little female colonial expats are going to suck you up so quickly – you’re feeding yourself to the wolves my friend! (Enjoy every bit of it.)

Here are some of the highlights that I’ll always remember you by:
1) You, Moogs and I causing mayhem at the KFC (I Kan like Fried Chicken) in Vanderbijlpark.
2) Chatting about relationships, art, being hippies while puffing away on Rafiki, the Tanzanian pipe.
3) Dressing up for River Club to pretend I was yours and Moogs’ cherry on your arm(s).
4) Bringing me a tramezzini when I left work early to drink vodka and cry over a man.
5) Pizza and vodka at Trabella. And Jolly, at that.
6) Hanging your red doondies from the pole at Jolly Roger – and watching them sway in the breeze over 4th Street for five weeks before management took them down.
7) Lusitoland – caipirinhas, Vegas showgirl outfits, and you wearing my bra.
8) Showing me the Herbert Baker museum at your [previous] place of work.
9) Me squeezing your nipple through your torn shirt at Songwriter’s Club. (I do apologise.) The second time we met.
10) Letting me read your personal poetry book, and your stories.
11) Drinking gin and tonics in your parent’s garden, under the mosaic. You dropping your pants while putting on the lawn.
12) You dropping your pants at every drunken social occasion, period.
13) Sitting around a bonfire on Plett beach.
14) Attending tennis braais – dressed like Bjorn Borg.
15) Dancing up a storm at Moloko.
16) You phoning my mum to tell her that I’m a ‘nice young lady.’
17) Taking photos at the base of Ponte Tower at 9:00pm on a Sunday night, when we were both taking photography courses. Trying to ‘be cool’ with the local riff raff.
18) Eating Kung Fu Kitchen chips and watching Southpark.
19) Watching Super Bowl and fraternising at Brenthurst.
20) Driving to random places on the East Rand and making new friends.
21) You, me and Moogs going out in Melville until 7:00am, you guys swapping shirts, and Moogs getting lucky in your Fabiani special.
22) Hallowe’en party at the Colony. You dressing up as Frikkie van der Veldskoen with mullet, stubbie shorts and a comb in your socks. And still getting lucky. Twice.
23) Courtenay ;)
24) Midnight phonecalls, where I can’t hear a word in your voice message the next morning, and vice versa.
25) My Liechtenstein pillow, my [fabulous] earrings.
26) Being [rightfully] protective over your twin sister. Especially from the likes of certain friends of yours. [I’ll look after her, and try to stop that dude's not-so-subtle advances in your absence, guy.]
27) Calling Small Bum anything but his real name for the first two months. [“How is Paul?” It’s Small Bum, Doc. His name is Small Bum. “How are things going with Andrew?” Small Bum Doc. “Peas, John is hilarious.” Is he Doc? I thought Small Bum was hilarious.]
28) Drinking lots of red wine outside at 83 on 10th.
29) Driving past Parkhurst’s George’s on 4th, pumping Punjabi MC, windows down, bass in your face, and you recoiling in horror.
30) Third World Ant and I giving you a ballet and gymnastics show in your room after too many doubles at the Jolly.

Go do your thing Doccie-Poo. If you come back in tie-dye and a turban, Moogs and I will not be happy - we’ll come over there and sort you out one time. (But we’re coming over already – Goa watch out.) Thanks for being an incredible mate. You have so much to offer the world. I’m sure you’re going to actually miss our incestuous little circle, and of course, you’re going to miss me heaps too. ;)

And! When you bring a Hashrima Aziz home to meet the folks, please may I be there, even if I’m a fly on the proverbial wall. And careful with those curries out East, I’ve heard putting your toilet paper in the freezer only exacerbates the ring sting problem.

Until next time, my dear. Mwah.