Marble memories
From Trish Trahar Sir: Lucius Cary's article on marbles (Finding your marbles', 22 May) brought back memories. My brothers were at The Ridge in Johannesburg, a public prep school in the English tradition perched on the Witwatersrand, where the early Randlords lived. The school's red sand driveway, where the boys played while waiting for their mothers to collect them, was swanning with little boys in khaki shorts and grey blazers — pockets in both bulging with marbles, and the most successful boys carrying shoe-bags with extra supplies. My brother's blazer was starting to fray at the hem as a result of his sweeping it, matador-like, behind his rare 'overgrown oblong spiral' to catch the unsuccessful marbles shied at his treasure. The 'Goon' was the largest marble in his bag, but I recall the challenge of shying at a `smokey' or an 'irony' — of course from further away. If shying from a distance was not your game you could always offer 'eye drops' — a marble placed at the eye directly over the prey. Before opening for business I could hear my brother's terms and conditions — 'Shy up! Shy up! Changes for chips and stones! Nix changes for any "decents"!' In other words, 'Don't try to send damaged or fake goods my way, and if you make a mistake and inadvertently hurl something special at my target it will be swept up in my blazer and be gone for ever !'
Trish Trahar
Johannesburg, South Africa
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