Making wine, a hobby to die for

Through the ages, thousands of plants, animals, customs, and even human tribes have become extinct. I reckon there is one more item that needs to be placed on the highly endangered red list: hobbies.

I remember how my dad and his fellow philatelists would spend every other Wednesday evening unpacking their collections, sorting them, bartering among themselves to grow their collections.

And whenever a friend or family member had to go abroad, the request was always the same: send letters home.

It was awesome watching grown men with magnifying glasses studying the minute details on every stamp. But those were the days when stamps were still widely used.

And I remember one of my father’s colleagues built model planes – real ones that could fly. He would painstakingly glue these miniscule pieces of wood together.

The engine would be mounted, it would be painted in exactly the same colours as the Real McCoy. Some Saturdays we were invited along to the model plane club to watch these tiny planes perform the most incredible aerobatics.

But my favourite hobbyist was right next door. Our neighbours were the De Vasconcelos family from Madeira. Every time they visited “home”, my father was the envy of the stamp collectors club.

But Mr De Vasconcelos had a hobby of his own: he made wine. Real home-made Portuguese wine. The De Vasconcelos children, Michael and Irene, were more or less the same age as my sister and I.

Living next door, we were obviously best friends. Exactly how good a winemaker Mr De Vasconcelos is, I cannot tell. And neither can most of his friends.

You see, we four children spent countless afternoons sampling his product. But in order not to be caught, we would have to top up all the bottles.

For this we used mostly water, but sometimes also food colouring or tea in an attempt to disguise the diluted wine.

When those bottles were served at Sunday lunch, that’s when the grown-ups smiled politely and made katembas. If I ever have time for a hobby, I won’t be asking you to send letters home.

Danie Toerien