Along with all gathered here to celebrate the life of Graham Linscott, I too wish to contribute, even though unable to attend, in remembering my friend — more familiarly known to me as
Frothy. There will be many fellow travellers on Froth’s journey through journalism, reporting on a wide variety of topics — the dramas and scandals in the South African parliament— and further a field on the African continent. Describing events ranging from the historic and dramatic to the often comical, Frothy revealed his talent for careful reporting, frequently laced with wry humour.
Many too will have known him through the years of freelance work and as he branched out into publishing his own books. I , however, have the privilege of remembering a different journey through 78 years of friendship — starting with the meeting of two small 5-year-olds at Bairnswood pre-school, followed by our years at Merchiston prep. Two pointers to the future quickly emerged—one, that Froth had a love of the spoken and written word—often being called up to read to the class, and second, he was not a fan of rules, routine and discipline—spending a lot of time in the headmaster’s office being punished for a series of transgressions. Senior school at Maritzburg College followed, and then we both had a stint at the Naval Gymnasium—allegedly to prepare us to defend the country.
Froth demonstrated an extraordinary ability to reduce the Commandant, or other officers to incandescent rage, by causing chaos on the parade ground due to a failure to distinguish left from right, not seeing any value in the disciplined Naval style, and finally by his extremely suspect navigational skills, when he crashed the only boat we ever took to sea into the jetty —Fortunately, South Africa was spared the reality of our intake of Naval cadets having to protect our shores. Whilst he was not the officer’s favourite, Froth was popular with his fellow trainees, who appreciated his unfailing sense of humour and ability to make them laugh. And indeed, all my memories of Froth centre around the fun and laughter. Briefly, he joined a group of us who had decided on Chartered Accountancy as a career. No one was less suited to this!! — and Froth abandoned articles and became a full-time student. For several carefree years, we shared digs — but that too came to an end, and we went our separate ways, fortunately, always staying in touch.
Later, we both found ourselves in London, where Froth found work with the Ilford Recorder, and adapted with great enthusiasm to the British pub lifestyle. Often, after a long night out, he could be found in Convent Garden, in the very small morning hours, joining the barrow boys in an early meal. These days too drew a close, and Froth returned to SA, to a more settled life. He followed the fortunes of the Banana Boys—and the Sharks as they became, very loyally and was a Duikers club Stalwart. Reaching a wide audience with his columns in the Mercury, as the Idler, he continued to demonstrate his wide-ranging interests, enhanced by the injection of humour he brought to his writing. Living far away in Stellenbosch, I looked forward to receiving every instalment and sending them on to others.
There is much I will miss about Froth—in particular, being able to frequently phone to get his views on the latest local and international news — and most importantly to discuss Rassie’s strategy with the Boks, the merits of various players — and to share the jubilation after a great win.
Anyone who has been gifted a friendship spanning 78 years, close to a lifetime, will feel privileged and I certainly do — Godspeed to a thoroughly decent man and friend,
R.I.P
Hugh Wimble