Bunking for American Gigolo: Memoirs of a 1980s College Girl

 I was at college in 1981—Modern Methods Business College in the African Life Building on Eloff Street. Weirdly enough, my boss years later when I worked at Premier Milling had gone to the same college, but that is not what this story is about!

Back in 1980, I really had not been interested in any of the subjects I was doing at school. My main subjects were Biology, History, Biblical Studies, and Maths, alongside mandatory English and Afrikaans, and I did not want to return for Standard 9. So, my mother decided I needed some kind of final practical education to help me figure out what I wanted to do. She pulled me out of Hill and sent me to "Secretarial College"—probably something that does not even exist anymore.

Because I hadn't done a lot of these commercial subjects before, I had to do a catch-up course, essentially compressing five years of learning into one. Typing, Accountancy, Pitman’s Shorthand, and Business Economics were the main ones. I excelled in the first term, so my parents knew they had done the right thing—except for Shorthand! My teacher gave me an "N" on my report. When I asked her what "N" meant, since most subjects were graded A through H, she said, "N is for Nil, Nought, Nada!"

The best part of getting on the bus every morning was being surrounded by all the other varsity and college students—and, of course, getting to wear civvies every single day! As I mentioned in my last post, the banter on the bus was always great.

I didn't know many people in my class at first. I ran into Heather, who had gone to school with me, but she had been at the college for a few years and was in a different stream. However, her friend Nicole was in my class. Nicole’s mom had passed away from cancer, and her father was very wealthy, so she was never short of money. She caught the same bus to and from college as I did because her dad would drop her off at her gran’s flat near my house.

Nicole had ended up in Sec B with me because she had failed Sec A; instead of repeating the full year, she decided to finish her college education by moving across to Sec B. She turned out to be a bit of a bad influence on both Heather and me. Whenever she didn't feel like going to college, she’d propose that we go to the movies at the Kine Centre instead, and she would treat us.

Instead of getting off at our normal stop, we would get off down near Old Vanderbijl Square and head toward the cinema. We always had about an hour and a half to kill since college started at 8:30 AM and the movies didn't start until 10:00 AM, so window shopping in the Carlton Centre was the order of the morning.

I distinctly remember going to see American Gigolo. It had just arrived in South Africa and was rated 2–18. Naturally, the usher asked for our age and knew full well we were lying, but let us in anyway. It was probably the first truly provocative movie I had ever seen in my life.

When my first report arrived, it listed four days absent. Cue internal panic! Thank goodness for Tipp-Ex. I did a pretty terrible job changing the 4 to a 0, but I managed it—and I didn't bunk many days after that! If I hadn't done so well in my other subjects, I wouldn't have shown the report to my parents at all, but I wanted them to see I wasn't wasting their money.

College really was the greatest time. It was an all-girls environment and we had so much fun. A lot of the girls smoked, and because some of the teachers smoked as well, they didn't always notice the smell when walking into the classroom. If anyone was still smoking when a teacher approached, someone would shout a warning, and cigarettes would be tossed straight out the window. Mind you, we were on the 10th floor, so you can just imagine this rain of lit cigarettes falling down Eloff Street! Fortunately, I never took up smoking at college.

My main friend at college was Pauline. Her parents lived in Simunye in Swaziland, so she stayed at a boarding house on Claim Street in the centre of town. Because she was in a boarding house, she would often come stay at our home for the weekend, and we would spend our time doing normal teenage things.

Pauline and I remained firm friends throughout the year. At the end of term, after our final exams, we went down to Cape Town together. Her sister was staying in the residences at UCT, so we had free accommodation. It was my first-ever trip to Cape Town, as well as my first experience taking a sleeper train.

After returning, I went to spend a couple of weeks at her parents' home in Swaziland—but I'll save all of that for my next post!

Life on the Upper Deck: Memories of Growing Up and Working in Jozi

 

How many of you can say you lived and worked in the heart of Johannesburg during its golden era?

Growing up just 8 kilometers south of the city center—with the iconic Carlton Centre anchoring the skyline—Johannesburg was the backdrop of my youth. From a very young age, taking the bus into the city was an event, though back then, it was a special treat rather than a daily routine.

My early memories involve catching the Route 46 trolleybus from The Hill, near South Rand Road and Verona Street. Route 46 was a vibrant, bustling lifeline connecting Rosettenville to the city center via Von Wielligh and Jeppe Streets. The bus always terminated at the energetic Van der Bijl Square bus station, where we would disembark and explore the city on foot.

As the years passed, my route shifted to the Route 45, which stopped just a block from our home in Linmeyer. By 1981, when I started college, this route ran from the Linmeyer Post Office all the way to Braamfontein to service students heading to Wits University. Since my college was located on Eloff Street, I usually got off near the bustling OK Bazaars.

Taking the bus into the city every day created memories I still cherish. The atmosphere was always lively—filled with what we in Ireland call great craic and banter. We were noisy kids, always heading straight for the back of the top deck. In those days, smoking was still permitted on the upper deck, while non-smokers preferred the lower level.

During the apartheid era, municipal public transit operated under strict racial segregation laws. City buses were color-coded and assigned to separate routes: non-white commuters were served by single-decker green buses, while white commuters traveled on the distinctive double-decker red buses.

Weekends brought a different kind of excitement. Saturdays were spent meeting friends in the city to catch movies, ice-skate at the Carlton Sky-Rink, dance at the afternoon discos at Plum Crazy or Club Chicago, or meet up for blind dates. Occasionally, we took the bus into town for evening events, but we always had to keep one eye on the clock—the last bus back to the suburbs left at midnight sharp, and missing it was simply not an option.

Working in the city during that era was an incredible experience. I loved walking among the beautiful classical and Georgian-style architecture, stopping by local pubs, shopping, and soaking in the vibrant energy of the streetscapes.

My daily bus journeys into town came to an end in the late 1980s. By then, I had moved to Randburg and commuted into the city via the Ferndale route. After leaving my position at Barclays / FNB at the end of 1987, I transitioned to jobs located in the suburbs, swapping the bus ride for a daily drive.

Johannesburg has a rich history, evolving rapidly from its origins in 1886 as a tented gold-mining camp into a dynamic metropolis. While I’ve shared my own memories and photos of those double-decker bus rides and city center days, I’d love to hear yours.

Did you live or work in Johannesburg during this era? What are your favorite memories of the city center? Share your stories in the comments below!

Forgive my AI piture I will eventually get it right ... Elizabeth street, really??

Stepping into the Next Chapter

 Retirement is steadily approaching, and I find myself frequently reflecting on what life will look like once I finally step away from the daily grind. Returning to the corporate world isn't in my plans, which leaves me with an exciting question: what do I truly love doing outside of work?

My absolute dream would be settling into a quiet, unspoiled corner of Sardinia or somewhere peaceful in the African bush. But wherever life takes me, I already have a few passions I want to pursue. I love writing this blog whenever I get the chance, and I’m thinking about taking it a step further by launching a podcast.

I often see people on Facebook sharing nostalgic memories of the good old days in Jo'burg. I’d love to host a live, call-in podcast focused on those stories and local history. Naturally, that means figuring out sponsorship and the technical side of live broadcasting, but the idea of connecting people through shared memories is incredibly exciting.

Beyond that, I want to spend my time doing what brings me joy—socializing, traveling, walking, and reading. Of course, with the cost of living continuously rising, staying practical is key, but I'm eager to build something meaningful for this next chapter.

To mark this new direction, I’ve updated my profile picture to reflect the name for both the podcast and the blog!

What do you think of the new look and the podcast idea? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!