Spud - Learning to Fly
Page 1
PRAISE FOR SPUD
‘… a witty, sharp and thoroughly entertaining book …’
www.southafricawriting.com
‘… John van de Ruit has cracked it … achingly funny …’
Michele Magwood, Sunday Times Lifestyle
‘… Spud is a benchmark for comedic writing in the country and one of the most enjoyable reads I have had this year.’
Lauren Cohen, EP Herald
‘Funniest book of the year’
Julia Paterson, The Citizen
‘Funny, fast-paced and wonderfully observant …’
Book Shelf, The Daily News
‘Funny, well-written and moving …’
Lindsay Slogrove, The Mercury
‘Ek het lanklaas so lekker gelag!’
Beeld
‘Spud is one of those books which could easily be dismissed as nothing more than an adolescent read at first glance, but once you pick it up it’s almost as if the pages turn themselves. All in all, a wonderful book.’
Metrobeat
‘Spud is a delicious piece of writing, full of invention and very very funny.’
Derek Wilson, The Argus
‘In this “wickedly funny” debut novel, John van de Ruit … has perfectly captured the life of a boy taking his first steps to manhood.’
Brian Joss, Capetowner
John van de Ruit has talent. A lot of it.’
Kate White, www.jhblive.com
SPUD – Learning to Fly
John van de Ruit
PENGUIN BOOKS
PENGUIN BOOKS
Published By the Penguin Group
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc, 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)
Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Mairangi Bay, Auckland 1310, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, Registered Offices: 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
www.penguinbooks.co.za
First published by Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd 2009
Reprinted 2009, 2010
Copyright © John van de Ruit, 2009
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Spud – Learning To Fly is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of any character to any person alive or dead is entirely coincidental.
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
ISBN: 978-0-14-302725-6
Contents
Acknowledgements
1992
Monday 20th January
Tuesday 21st January
Wednesday 22nd January
Thursday 23rd January
Friday 24th January
Saturday 25th January
Sunday 26th January
Monday 27th January
Tuesday 28th January
Wednesday 29th January
Thursday 30th January
Friday 31st January
Saturday 1st February
Monday 3rd February
Wednesday 5th February
Thursday 6th February
Friday 7th February
Saturday 8th February
Sunday 9th February
Thursday 13th February
Friday 14th February
Saturday 15th February
Monday 17th February
Wednesday 19th February
Thursday 20th February
Friday 21st February
Sunday 23rd February
Monday 24th February
Tuesday 25th February
Wednesday 26th February
Thursday 27th February
Friday 28th February
Saturday 29th February
Sunday 1st March
Monday 2nd March
Tuesday 3rd March
Wednesday 4th March
Thursday 5th March
Saturday 7th March
Sunday 8th March
Monday 9th March
Tuesday 10th March
Wednesday 11th March
Friday 13th March
Sunday 15th March
Monday 16th March
Tuesday 17th March
Wednesday 18th March
Thursday 19th March
Saturday 21st March
Sunday 22nd March
Wednesday 25th March
Thursday 26th March
Friday 27th March
Monday 30th March
Tuesday 31st March
Wednesday 1st April
Thursday 2nd April
Friday 3rd April
Saturday 4th April
Sunday 5th April
Wednesday 8th April
Saturday 11th April
Friday 17th April
Sunday 19th April
Monday 20th April
Tuesday 21st April
Friday 24th April
Monday 27th April
Tuesday 28th April
Wednesday 29th April
Thursday 30th April
Friday 1st May
Saturday 2nd May
Tuesday 17:00 J Milton.
Sunday 3rd May
Tuesday 5th May
wednesday 6th May
Sunday 10th May
Monday 11th May
Tuesday 12th May
Wednesday 13th May
Thursday 14th May
Friday 15th May
Saturday 16th May
Sunday 17th May
Monday 18th May
Wednesday 20th May
Friday 22nd May
Saturday 23rd May
Monday 25th May
Wednesday 27th May
Thursday 28th May
Friday 29th May
Saturday 30th May
Sunday 31st May
Monday 1st June
Tuesday 2nd June
Wednesday 3rd June
Thursday 4th June
Friday 5th June
Saturday 6th June
Sunday 7th June
Thursday 11th June
Friday 12th June
Saturday 13th June
Wednesday 17th June
Friday 19th June
Saturday 20th June
Sunday 22nd June
Tuesday 30th June
Wednesday 1st July
Thursday 2nd July
Friday 3rd/Saturday 4th July
Sunday 5th July
Tuesday 7th July – Working Day
Wednesday 8th July
Thursday 9th July
Monday 20th July
Wednesday 22nd July
Thursday 23rd July
Saturday 25th July
Sunday 26th July
Tuesday 28th July
>
Thursday 30th July
Saturday 1st August
Monday 3rd August
Tuesday 4th August
Wednesday 5th August
Friday 7th August
Sunday 9th August
Tuesday 11th August
Wednesday 12th August
Friday 14th August
Sunday 16th August
Wednesday 19th August
Sunday 23rd August
Wednesday 26th August
Thursday 27th August
Friday 28th August
Saturday 29th August
Sunday 30th August
Tuesday 1st September
Wednesday 2nd September
Friday 4th September
Sunday 6th September
Monday 7th September
Tuesday 8th September
Wednesday 9th September
Friday 11th September
Sunday 13th September
Monday 14th September
Wednesday 16th September
Thursday 17th September
Friday 18th September
Saturday 19th September
Sunday 20th September
Wednesday 23rd September
Thursday 24th September
Friday 25th September
Sunday 4th October
Wednesday 7th October
Friday 9th October
Sunday 11th October
Monday 12th October
Tuesday 13th October
Wednesday 14th October
Thursday 15th October
Friday 16th October
Saturday 17th October
Sunday 18th October
Monday 19th October
Tuesday 20th October
Wednesday 21st October
Thursday 22nd October
Saturday 24th October
Sunday 25th October
Monday 26th October
Tuesday 27th October
Wednesday 28th October
Friday 30th October
Saturday 31st October
Sunday 1st November (The Dying Season)
Monday 2nd November
Tuesday 3rd November
Wednesday 4th November
Friday 6th November
Saturday 7th November
Sunday 8th November
Monday 9th November
Tuesday 10th November
Wednesday 11th November
Thursday 12th November
Friday 13th November
Saturday 14th November
Sunday 15th November
Monday 16th November
Tuesday 17th November
Wednesday 18th November
Friday 20th November
Monday 23rd November
Thursday 26th November
Friday 27th November
Saturday 28th November
Sunday 29th November
Monday 30th November
Wednesday 2nd December
Thursday 3rd December
Friday 4th December
Acknowledgements
Like much in this world, writing a book is a bizarre business. The dichotomy of experiencing life as a creative wellspring and simultaneously hiding from its demands and realities creates a schizophrenic impulse to both devour and disappear. I would like to thank my great friends and family for not disowning me over the past sixteen months, and especially Julia, who has walked this journey with me every step of the way. Her influence is unseen, yet I doubt Learning to Fly would be what it is without her love, clever brain and the bountiful joy she brings to my life.
Alison Lowry – I cannot thank you enough for your inspiration, guidance and calming influence. Our Midlands imbizos cemented the building blocks for what was to follow, and your faith and brilliance cajoled me through the difficult months of editing and second guessing. It is unique for a writer to find an editor (and boss) whom he can trust implicitly to share his vision. You are the true mother of this series and what The Guv might call a delinquent visionary. Thanks, also, to the entire crew at Penguin Books who take my mad ramblings, turn them into beautiful books and ensure that they fly off the shelves. I feel like I have an army behind me and the success of Spud is as much yours, as it is mine. Special thanks to Tracey McDonald for thinking big, Janine (Leadfoot) Daniel for breaking the speed limit, and Claire Heckrath for her artistic gems.
Finally I want to thank you, the reader, for taking this journey with me. May these pages bring you joy and laughter and an insight into a world that is both familiar and foreign. After all, that is what you all have gifted me.
1992
NEW YEAR’S DAY
TAKING STOCK
PHYSICAL
Freakishly underdeveloped with no real biceps, triceps, pecs, calves, six pack etc … etc … The realisation has dawned on me that I’m less than two years away from finishing my school career and yet I still don’t look a day over eleven. Despite months of spectacular knackjumping and other verbal pyrotechnics, my voice has hardly dropped below the level of a masculine woman. I had my first shave on New Year’s Eve which didn’t seem to make any difference, except for the nasty cut on my neck that seeped blood all night and then miraculously stopped on the gong of New Year. This was quite possibly some sort of signal from above that 1992 will offer up greater things than 1991 – or at least be a little less bloody.
EMOTIONAL
After two years of numerous disasters, countless embarrassing situations, and endless turmoil, I find myself in a desperately fragile state of mind. My ‘relationships’ are a constant cause for stress and I’ve narrowed the problem down to the simple but unavoidable fact that I’m utterly terrified of women, particularly the ones who like me. My parents are often insane, my friends are mostly delinquents or cretins (or both), and since I have no siblings, I have to unload all my worries on Blacky. This is grossly unfair on an animal that thinks licking his privates in public is generally good form.
There’s also glaring evidence of inbreeding in my father’s bloodline, which could account for my embarrassingly late physical development. Thanks to my great-great-grandfather repeatedly bonking my great-great-aunt, my goolies are now more famous than I am.
MENTAL
Being surrounded by madness most of the time has left me edgy and disturbed. I think about death at least once a week and frequently have a twitchy left eyebrow, which Mom says is definitely stress related. I do still have my scholarship, although the letter from the school bursar let it be known that the school isn’t satisfied with what I have achieved thus far.
SPIRITUAL
I’m fairly sure God exists, although He hasn’t exactly come storming through on any of the urgent prayers that I’ve sent His way. I have a feeling this is because He’s either overworked, punishing me for dabbling in the occult with Fatty, or he’s reading my mind when I think of Amanda or Julia Roberts. I’ve also spent many unsuccessful hours trying to work out the meaning of life.
FAMILY
Mom is in a permanently bad mood, which Dad puts down to menopause. Wombat is senile, deranged and suspicious of her own family, and it took my father nearly a week to convince a team of top psychiatrists in the nuthouse that he wasn’t insane. Dad called the whole nuthouse debacle at the end of last term a simple misunderstanding, and blamed God and the station wagon for his woes. If you ask me, any person who announces, ‘I’ve had a breakdown!’ outside an asylum deserves to have electrodes strapped to his head for a week. I also overheard Mom telling Marge that Dad spent four of the days in the asylum wearing a straightjacket and a nappy! Hardly the sign of a sane man …
GIRLS
Mermaid
Mermaid and I have decided that we will wait until after school before we have a real relationship. In truth Mermaid decided this on our weekend away at Sodwana Bay with her parents, and because my bottom lip started quivering I immediately agreed. Inside I was screaming No No No! but unfortunately my traitorous lips were stupi
dly saying ‘Okay’ over and over. Later on the trampoline I asked her if we could start over again. She gave me a hug and said I was her best friend. My lips then said ‘Definitely’. And that was that.
Further bad news is that the Mermaid has suddenly become religious and now reckons she’s saving herself for marriage. When I asked her when she would like to get married she answered, ‘When I’m twenty-nine.’ On the plus side, we did share a passionate goodbye kiss up against her fridge, which was only interrupted when Brutus (Mermaid’s boxer) got his head stuck in the rubbish bin and then had a panic attack and pissed himself.
Amanda
Mom didn’t let me go away with Amanda and her friends in the holidays because she said there was no adult supervision and that it would encourage my ‘drinking problem’. Mom also called Amanda a private school hussy, hell-bent on driving me to suicide. When I broke the bad news to Amanda, she called me a coward and then said, ‘Sorry, I forgot you were only fifteen and needed Mommy’s permission.’
I haven’t spoken to her since.
Christine
Christine invited me to her New Year’s Eve party at Salt Rock but I bravely told her I had plans. (Dismal braai with Mom, Dad, Wombat, Uncle Aubrey, Aunt Peggy and Blacky.) She then told me that she wasn’t giving up and kissed the phone three times before saying goodbye.
FIVE REMINDERS OF WHY I SHOULD NEVER BE WITH CHRISTINE:
Boggo says she’s got the clap.
She’s psychotic and slutty (a mixed blessing).
She was Gecko’s girlfriend.
She’s terrifying.
At least four boys at school think they’re going out with her.
Unfortunately, the list of girls in my life remains identical to that of two years ago. This semi-arid love-life situation is becoming serious and requires urgent and immediate attention. The only problem is that I’m still in love with one of them, obsessed with the other, and lately I have had pleasurable dreams about the third.
So here I sit, at my desk in my little room, looking back over the worst holiday in living memory. The Mermaid has sort of dumped me again and I’m wondering if life is really just a series of random experiences that deceives you into thinking that you’re actually serving some sort of purpose, when actually you are no more important than a mosquito in the greater sewerage works of life?