Tim Belknap

If you want some memories, here they are:
The torture of waiting hours outside Chitty's office to get "the cuts" with other miscreants caught talking after lights out--then hearing them get caned while waiting your turn; the bogs and Bronco toilet paper, which seems to have been case-hardened through some sort of waxing process, certainly character-building; the addition of protein to the diet in the form of live maggots in the purportedly boiled cabbage; the hedges and all the "shacks" with secret passageways and feuding clans; Saxon (the dog) - the only member of the Chitty family with whom I maintained affectionate relations; terrorizing East African Railways & Harbors employees and fellow passengers, including the kid we debagged and then held his shorts outside the window, only to be blown away before his very eyes; being one of only three Americans (plus Canadian Dick Beach, but not including my two bros, whose tenures overlapped) and being somewhat persecuted for same; holding Roman Games involving safari ants, tarantulas, dug pits, and magnifying glasses; clearing 14 feet in the long jump; getting my knee twisted for the Stuarts(?Sandringham) in the final moments of our rugby match against the Windsors and limping down the san supported by best friend and fellow Yank Gray Goodman because everyone else had cleared out without noticing my misfortune and were having dinner when we came into view in the driveway--the nurse, Mrs. Walker??, came running out when she saw us through the window; Jane Chitty's and David Jupp's perioidic in-class tantrums; riding through some wonderful country on nimble ex-polo horses; Jupp's talent as a history and art teacher; ditto for Jane Chitty, who helped teach me how to write an effective sentence; the kindness of Archie Fraser. I could go on...the place, for better or worse, was unforgettable. Regards, Tim

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