Wilkie was my godfather. A graduate of Cambridge University, he spent most of his life as a teacher at Bishops, a school in Cape Town. One of the most gregarious people you could ever meet, he kept up with all his old pupils reporting every visitor to the school’s quarterly Old Boys' Magazine. Our family always featured, because he’d come up to stay with my parents on our farm at least once a year. One visit co-incided with my father burying the carcass of a sheep under our grapevine. Wanting to know the reason Dad replied that the decomposed flesh would provide good nutrients for the fruit. Wilkie was entranced, and insisted that one day his body should also be put to good use.
His retirement years were in a village of Swellendam, and he was laid to rest in the local cemetery. On a trip past with my parents, we stopped and went in to “pay our respects”. We believe that Wilkie is delighted with his resting place. The tree planted next to his grave has grown remarkably in the ten years, providing wonderful shade. I am privileged to be the god daughter of such a man.
Originally started the project to improve my photography skills. Over a 2500 photos later it's become a personal diary. I post pictures that mark my...
