"Are you single, married...or from the colonies?"
Tim begins “Three Sips of Gin” by taking us behind the veil of decadent behavior and excesses which prevailed in Colonial East Africa during his childhood. For bored housewives surrounded by legions of native servants, scandals and stengahs provided welcome relief from the monotony of their pampered lives. Later, Tim gives us rare insight into the strict and unforgiving domain of the remote African boarding school where status among schoolboys was determined not from within the classroom, but by more notable deeds worthy of schoolboy lore. The excitement of Tim’s African adventure intensifies when, as a young commissioned officer with one of the worlds most elite Special Forces units, we follow him into the silence of the shadows to seek out and destroy terrorist lairs in what was one of Southern Africa’s most brutal bush wars. It is here you will read never before published details of some of the Selous Scouts last and most top-secret operations. Finally, we stumble with Tim through the intrigues, excesses and scandals of the boardroom of a large multinational company based in South Africa where longevity of service was as tenuous as the morning mist on the Matabele plains. But most of all we share in the remarkable wit and humour of Tim’s remarkable African adventure.
“This morning I woke up with "Three Sips of Gin" resting on my head and I have no hangover! I had been laughing so much I almost had to move into the spare bedroom. Thank you for sharing your time and talents with us. I wish you had a recording of all the laughter and tears you have brought into so many lives. ”
Pamela Courtney: United States
“I haven't started reading the book yet and simply can’t wait. My Mother began reading it this morning. She has been sitting in the hotel garden hoping the guests were still at the beach so they wouldn't have to witness an 85 year old woman on her own laughing her head off. They might have attributed her behaviour to senile demensia . . . actually she was reading Three Sips of Gin!”
Anna Andreocci: Verilia, Tuscany
“Three Sips of Gin is the best book I've read on the Rhodesian troubles by a million miles. It’s funny, vibrant, serious, exciting and thoroughly entertaining. Forget even the hint of a Mea Culpa syndrome. This is a remarkable book.”
Bob Blair
Ex the Daily Mirror, Ottawa Citizen, South China Morning Post Group and the Rand Daily Mail
Frivolities in the Mess after a Formal Dinner
Extracts from...
Three Sips of Gin
……Major Walsh would kneel precariously on top of a low table and face everyone in the bar like the impervious conductor of a badly choreographed choir. Then raising both hands above his head he would give a rousing performance of an extraordinary recital he called "The Old Bazaar of Baghdad". This was somewhere between a wail and a chant and must have been learnt in some questionable establishment on the banks of the Euphrates during his service in the Middle East. He would then prostrate his upper body on the table with his bottom in the air and give a loud wail that would have everyone thinking he had done himself a grievous injury. This was the signal for everyone else in the bar to raise their hands and join in the chant… “Yes, Dad. No, Dad. Three bags full, Dad”
"I became terribly bored. I wasn't even allowed to make myself tea.
There was a servant to make it, another to serve it."
"What did you do?"
"I started drinking my husband's gin."
(Kenya settlers wife: 1955)
"I'm sure that some of my fellow officers are quite normal. Some have even managed to avoid falling off the edge of propriety. Thankfully, none of my associates are amongst them."
(Maj. "Spike" Powell: RLI Officers Mess: 1973)
After being seated at the table, the wine steward looked moderately surprised when, after filling Mary's glass from a decanter of Saint Chinian Château Bousquette, she tossed it back and demanded another. Ten minutes later I was engrossed in conversation with the lady on my left when I felt a discreet tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see the Mess Caterer superciliousy peering down his nose at me.
"Yes Sergeant?"
He coughed slightly, as if wanting to clear his throat before making an important announcement.
"Your lady companion has passed out, Sir," he said with an air of sanctimonious snobbery.
"Passed out! Where, Sergeant?"
"In her soup, Sir."
(Author speaking with Mess Caterer: Regimental Dinner Evening: 1975)
|
