Hamba Kahle Harry

As Harry Bodmer’s family prepare to say their farewells today, I thought of the many wonderful memories we shared at 59 New Street in 1976.

The funniest one, is the one I am about to share…

Early one Saturday morning, I had something I absolutely had to tell Harry. So I pulled on my moss green dressing gown, made Harry a cup of coffee and took it up to his room.  I sat myself down at the bottom of his bed and began.  Harry was barely awake and propped himself up on his pillow to listen to me. His eyes were struggling to stay open and his hair was sticking out at all angles, but he tried his best to give me his full attention.

I was about halfway through my story and Harry had managed to tease a smile out of me, when the door flew open. A fellow housemate took a step into the room. He froze when he saw me and his eyebrows reached right up to his fringe. I didn’t get his reaction at all, but Harry did.

“It’s not what you think,” he said quietly.  When there was no response, he tried again. “No really, it’s not what you think!”

The penny dropped.  I blushed from my toes to the tips of my ears. I grabbed the empty coffee mug and dashed out of the door. The sound of Harry’s infectious laughter was the only thing that kept me moving.  I pushed my own door open with my hip and faced my highly amused neighbour, Linda.

“What was that all about?”

I hope your laughter tinkles all the stars in the sky Harry.

Hamba Kahle my friend…

 

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