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Rock hopping comes naturally to most children. As a young child, I somehow always found a path that required a certain sure-footedness. One such path was a narrow little retainer wall which ran along the front of a neighbour's hedge becoming higher as the road and sidewalk ran down to join the main road which ran through the city. The little adventurer in me had worked out that I could jump onto the little wall where it started at only about a foot off the ground and run all the way around the border of the house, jumping over the gap where the gate and steps met and continue along as the wall got higher to the corner, which at about 3 metres, was the highest point of the wall which ran around the large property. It then levelled out as it continued around the corner and I could jump off at the other end where it was only about one metre off the ground. Why I did this, I never really understood when running down the sidewalk would have been much safer and much easier.  The ability

HERE ARE THE PAGES STILL COVERED IN FLOUR   Here’s the recipe for coffee biscuits, still covered in a little flour Meringues and Koeksisters and yummy Swiss Roll, Everything sweet, savoury and sour.   Here’s the recipe borrowed from a friend, Nothing those days was sugar-free, Lemon marmalade and Hertzog cookies, (some said Jan Smutsies when invited to tea.)   Favourite pages, stained over years Now I smell them, and taste the tears As I remember licking bowl and beater Nothing more vivid, nothing sweeter.   Fast come the memories of learning the trick Of rolling the dough, “not too thin, nor too thick.” Of copping a wallop with the same wooden spoon That mixed in the flavours and kept us in tune.   Here’s the recipe for happy days, Cornflour still sticks to the well-turned pages Here’s the smell of a happy childhood That will not go in a thousand ages