Before a session at the Hatfield Hall a friend who lived near to the venue invited the band around to his place (his parents' house) for a braai (barbecue). There was a swimming pool in the garden and we were goofing around in it. Hodge, our lead guitarist, turned up late and was standing on the side chatting to Mac who was up to his waist in the shallow end. Eventually Hodge asked Mac, who incidentally stood six foot four, how deep the water was.
Mac believing Hodge was joking ducked down under the water, which was no deeper than three feet, and poked his hand out. For some inexplicable reason Hodge actually believed Mac and dived in,
head first, straight down...into the shallow end. There was a muffled thud, an
explosion of bubbles and seconds later Hodge surfaced. The index finger of his
right hand was set at a crazy angle, dislocated at the knuckle
joint when his hand slammed into the bottom of the pool. Surprisingly Hodge didn't experience any pain, possibly he was suffering from shock,
who knows, but he seemed to relish everyone’s horrified reaction to his
wonky digit. He started goofing around, hollering, “They went that a way! No
that a way!” whatever direction he pointed the dislocated index finger pointed
directly upwards.
After exhausting numerous finger
related signs, ‘two’s up’, to mention but one, the feeling returned to Hodge’s index
finger - with interest - and his laughter was replaced by a string of
expletives that grew in volume and colour as the pain intensified.
We rushed him to the Salisbury General Hospital where eventually
the offending digit was yanked back into place...a procedure which Hodge
described as agony heaped upon agony with extra agony
thrown in for good measure.
Incidentally, Hodge played the session that night, but not very well.
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