Watering the Garden

Much to my annoyance, Toby usually buries his bones. This morning, as I was watering the garden, I noticed a carefully-placed bone at the base of Andre's vine. It's hard to see exactly where the vine starts since there's now also a Yew growing there, presumably courtesy of a visiting bird who must have deposited a fertile seed on that spot (is that how it works?). But anyway that is where I spotted it.

I'm not sure if it's a question of Toby finally understanding that bone-burying is not acceptable, or that he has some other reason for meticulously placing it in that particular spot at this particular point in time. Either way he's not telling.

2 year old tease 1966

this image always makes me smile. His love of teasing was evident even before he could walk. And here he is at the tender age of 2, tickling his great-aunt Bex. She adored him. I love the way she's giggling ... I recall this tickling and giggling went on for a long time that sunny Sunday at Dave and Mel's house.

Rollerblading in Hyde Park 1992

we had so much fun that day. Andre kept us in stitches with his antics. He rollerbladed very well, in fact, and the pole-hugging was just for effect.

1972 Andre & Dani with grandpa George and cousins Derek, Uri and Risa

Uncle David remembers

I bring back memories of Andre as a small boy coming with his 'big' sister Dani and his little cousins Derek and Uri, on an outing with us to the Zoo and when we got there the keeper said "so you've come back have you, you little monkey". As Tanya said at the funeral [of a friend recently]: "Only a sense of humour will keep me going" So I allowed myself this little aside. I love to remember my all too few memories of Andre. Andre crying after a minor, but frightening car accident at the Bunny Park in Benoni. Andre playing with his cousins in our garden in Sandringham. And the houseproud Andre showing me around his and Maggie's apartment in Kensington. In a north London pub, Andre who brought me a Lager after asking how was my Ale and I told him it tasted like piss. Always sweet, sensitive, and so intelligent. Even after 10 years a star missing from my firmament.

with love
David

Tales of a City

Just after returning from a trip to South Africa, Andre told me a story of an extraordinary and shocking event he witnessed during his travels, or was it?

He had stopped at a petrol station in Jo’burg to fill up when there was some sort of a commotion. Andre looked up to find a young Black man running in a panic and screaming for help because there had been an accident and his arms were engulfed in flames. Initially there was some reluctance by those present to help in case the whole scenario had been set up as an ambush since this was a common occurrence in Jo’burg. However, the police and the ambulance arrived at just the moment everyone realised this was a real emergency and there was no time to waste. The man in flames now looked in agony and was running around in a mad panic as the crowd that had now gathered alerted the police to the scene. As soon as the police saw the victim, they drew out their guns and shot the poor man dead. For a moment everyone stood still in shock, and when the crowd that had gathered angrily demanded an explanation, the police replied “I’m sorry but we cannot have firearms here”!

Of course, it was another joke and you laughed like a drain when you realised that I realised I’d been had, and I laughed like a drain because it was actually a good joke for you. I shared this joke with my younger brother who lives in Nigeria and he enjoyed it so much that although he never met Andre, he would always ask “How is your friend with the jokes?”

Picnic in Hyde Park

10th April 1995

Making Toby Smile

Andre Baby

A short word from Anne

Andre was the first person to tell me about internet about 15 years ago. It seemed like a crazy idea but he was really excited about it. It doesn't feel like it was that long ago and I can't believe he's been gone for such a long time. It only seems like yesterday. I miss his silly dancing and jokes. And also his good advice.

portraits of andré

sussex graduation

hampstead / hilversum / chiswick

cornwall '93

rollerblading (brighton & central park, ny)

early 90's

André's Vine

It was on mothers' day in March 1999 that André finally got round to planting a vine cutting he had been given by Jim a while before. Soon after we went on holiday to Spain and soon after that he died. It wasn't until the day of his funeral, in the garden afterwards, that I noticed that the vine had taken and was flourishing.
By 2006 the Triomphe d'Alsace vine was producing a sufficient quantity of grapes for me to attempt my first batch of wine. I was really pleased with the results. The following year wasn’t as good, but that didn’t put me off having a third attempt, despite a terrible summer weather-wise, and having to compete with greedy wood pigeons when harvesting the modest yield. Here's a picture of what was produced. The demijohn on the left is just Triomphe D'Alsace grape, on the right is a mix of grape, apple and elderflower. It hasn't been sampled yet...


Part of the vine in September 2007

Our First Winter

Having lived with Andre for so many years, thereby being privy to the telling of so many of his jokes, I should really have a vast warehouse full of them to choose from. Sadly, with me jokes go in one ear and straight out the other. So much as I'd love to be funny, I'll have to settle for an anecdote instead.

I remember an incident in January 1991, when he was still living in Stafford Court in Kensington and me in Brixton. He was excited about the snowy weather, not having had much experience of it in sunny South Africa. These were the days before I got cured of my arachnophobia.

I proudly told him over the phone about my battle with a monster spider in which I had come out victorious. It was a sweeter victory than merely stomping on the massive beast. I had managed to catch it under a glass and chuck it out onto the snow-covered balcony.

He came over a few hours later and we had a cup of coffee together in the kitchen. I was going through one of my no-smoking phases so he went out onto the balcony to smoke. Something out there caught his interest, that mischievous smile of his appeared and he called me over. The thick layer of snow had thinned considerably, more so in one particular spot. There was a shrivelled black dot in the centre of the circular thaw which Andre scooped up and held out towards me for closer inspection. A microscope would have helped identify it for sure but with the naked eye it looked suspiciously like the remains of a tiny eight-legged creature.

Hey, have you heard the one about...

Great storytellers are rare, and Andre was one of them.



In the time I was fortunate enough to spend with Andre, he never failed to make me laugh. Normally it had nothing to do with the quality of the joke (most of you will understand!) but instead the unreserved enthusiasm and delight of the teller. The twinkle in Andre's eyes was infectious. He so easily elicited laughter, life's greatest panacea, often long before the punchline was delivered.



Shortly after Andre's service his great friend Gordon put his arm around my shoulder and said he had a joke for me, one that Andre had told him a few days before. After the joke, which I share with you below, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. We did both in equal measure. I have a feeling it's what a great storyteller would've wanted.





A man drives into town determined to have a big night out.

Spotting a nightclub with a line at the door he parks and excitedly heads off toward the club.

Reaching the top of the queue, he is is stopped by the outstretched arm of a burly bouncer, who looks down at him.



"Sorry Sir, can't get in without a tie."



The man pleads his case but the bouncer is insistent. Dejected, he heads back to his car.

Sitting in the driver's seat, keys in the ignition, he suddenly has a great idea.

He jumps out of the car and heads around to the boot, opening it he grabs the set of jumper leads he keeps in case of emergency and fashions a tie of sorts.

After a quick check of his reflection in a shop window, he strolls confidently back to the club.

When he reaches the top of the queue, the bouncers arm stretches out again, blocking his entry.

The man looks up at him,



"What's the problem, I've got a tie"



The bouncer looks down and slowly lowers his arm,



"Alright mate, you can come in...



...just don't start anything."

first meeting

this was taken in Katoomba in 1997 when Andre and Josh first met.

Josh's Uncle Andre

..... enjoying Josh's musical flair. Clearly Josh is enjoying it too.

so cool!

Andre sings a favourite song in his repertoire to Kevin's accompaniment. Could it be "Stand By Me"?

fab four

this wonderful image of my 4 children reminds me of that Pete Seeger song

"... I'd sing out love between my brothers and my sisters, all over this land ...."

brotherly love

the smiles on these beautiful young faces touch me deeply. I have this photo, framed, in my lounge and look at it often. There's so much joy and promise there ..... and love.

André's Tree

Playing a round of golf in Gunnersbury Park, always lovely to come to at the first tee, André’s memorial tree.

Margreet and Jim

from Carol C

The year was 1974 and I was an 'almost qualified' Jewish Studies teacher at King David School in Johannesburg. I was given the honour of teaching a group of year 2 students. In general, these students were not all that keen to learn Hebrew. In particular there was one little boy who was even less keen than the others to learn Hebrew, but was thoroughly gorgeous and adorable - and what a sense of fun and humour he had! And yes, his name was Andre Joffe.

A year or two later, I developed a close friendship with Judy, Andre’s mother (an enduring friendship that remains close to this day) and had the pleasure of meeting up with him again. I had also been his sister, Danielle's teacher - sweet little 'pet' that she was! And through the years I learnt to know and love Andre, and appreciate his awesome personality and the depth of his character. He had such an insightful perspective of the world and he touched the lives of all who knew him.

It is so hard to look at a photo of his beautiful and strong face without tears welling up. He is deeply missed and my heart aches for those who were closest to him.

Carol.

once upon a Sunday

I knocked on Andre’s door at 11.30 that morning, armed with a cup of coffee, my peace offering for waking him so early on a Sunday. It was 1988. He was 23. Usually on Sundays Andre would sleep until 12.30 or even 1. When he woke he would stumble into the kitchen where the rest of the family was having lunch, pour himself a plate of cereal, eat it hastily and then declare he was ready for lunch.

On this particular Sunday I wanted to use the computer in his room (the only one in the house at the time) to work on “Goldilocks and the 3 Bears”, the 5th in a series of fairytales with songs I was recording. Roused by the smell of coffee and the familiar jingle of the computer starting up, he forced open one eye muttering disparagingly about people who wake up other people at the crack of dawn on weekends. Undeterred by his protests which were growing wackier and funnier with each slurp of coffee, I sat down and started to type.

“Hey Andre, what’s another way of saying ….?”And “Will a child understand this phrase?” I asked, not expecting any coherent answers but keen to hear what grammatical gems he would come up with. And gems they were! As his suggestions became more and more outrageous, I became more and more hysterical and wasn’t making much progress with Goldilocks. Andre was sitting on the edge of the bed by this time, holding his cup with both hands, a wicked smile on his still sleepy face and mischief in his eyes - sure signs that some weird magic was brewing in that brilliant mind of his. And I was not disappointed.

“The trouble is, Ma, you’re just not taking this seriously!” he told me. “Okay, you want to know how to write a children’s story? Uncle Andre will show you how. Now… stop laughing and start typing. ” Words began to tumble out of his mouth, slowly and measured at first, and then they spilled out taking on a new rhythm, a new vitality, a new exaggerated South African accent. I opened a new document and typed as fast as my fingers could go as Andre dictated 5 pages (hardly stopping to think, it seemed) as if he were making a police report on the events that took place the day Goldifrocks, as he called her, met the 3 bears. About an hour later I typed “the end”.

In the kitchen, Les, Kevin and Gary were eating bagels and smoked salmon, our usual Sunday lunch. Andre hurriedly devoured a plate of cereal and then sat down to lunch, as if it were just like any other Sunday.

Extract from GOLDIFROCKS AND THE 3 BEARS

retold (with an exaggerated South African accent) by Andre Joffe

A family of bears lived in their own little house deep in the woods. The house was made of trees which they cut down themselves. And all the furniture in it was also made from trees. Often they would go for walks in the forest to look at houses of other bears and compare how good theirs was. On one such particular day when they was out comparing houses, it came to pass that Goldifrocks was walking along nearby this area. Suddenly from between the trees she noticed a particularly beautiful flower staring at her from across the way. “How beautiful it is!” she thought to herself quietly and she proceeded to walk across the way towards that particular flower when suddenly she got lost.

It was midday. The sun was way above her at the tops of the trees. She could see it peeking through at her as if it was trying to help her but couldn’t. Then she looked down and was surprised to notice that not far from her personal location there was a particularly bright area amongst the scary darkness of the trees. “I wonder what that could be!” she exclaimed simultaneously increasing her walking speed. As she neared this bright spot she realized, to her happiness, that it was, in fact, a clearing in the forest where the sun was shining through and in the middle of the clearing was a house obviously built by bears. She walked cautiously towards the house not knowing if it was still populated by bears – in which case it would be very dangerous to enter because sometimes they can bite you - or if perhaps the bears had gone out, for instance to compare their house to other bears’ houses (bears are very house-proud animals). When she reached the front door she decided to knock, which she proceeded to do.

later ....

After climbing upon the smallest chair and finding it to be particularly suited to her size, she found, to her happiness, that the temperature of this porridge was suitable to her taste. “How happy I am,” she thought, “that this porridge is suitable to my taste.” As a direct consequence, she ate the entire contents of that porridge bowl following which she contentedly placed the spoon down and looked around. Suddenly she noticed stairs leading to the upstairs of the house. She decided to explore and hoped that during this process she would come across some beds. This she hoped for the following reason: she was tired.

and later ......

How happy she was when she came across the 3rd bed, which we know by the fact that, at that point, she stated with a smile: “How happy I, Goldifrocks, am!” Without further hesitation she jumped on to the above-mentioned bed and found, to her happiness, that this mattress was indeed of the appropriate softness to her needs. She proceeded to sink into a deep and restful sleep.

It was at this point in time that the bears finally returned from their long trek through the forest, whose purpose it seems, was to allow the porridge to acquire a temperature which would satisfy the tastes of all 3 bears. In other words they had left the porridge to cool down. Now they returned expecting to find all as they had left it. Little did they realize at that point the strange sequence of events which would follow.

Firstly, the bears ran to their respective chairs on which they sat respectively expecting to be able to appease their respective hungers. However, they were each surprised to find their spoons dirty. Moreover the smallest bear was even more surprised to find, in his plate, a lack of porridge.

much later ......

The bear of smallest size then pointed out that his predicament was by far the most serious one in that, not only had his chair been sat in (which, like the others, he had deduced from the warmth emanating from his chair) and his porridge tasted, but the tasting had gone on to an extreme resulting in a lack of porridge. He thus stated: “Someone has been sitting in my chair and has eaten all my porridge up!”

Finding this situation quite suspicious, and noticing a faint aroma of person in the room, the bears got off their respective chairs and proceeded to climb the stairs in order to be upstairs. This accomplished, they were able to check their respective rooms for the presence of the aforementioned aromatic person.

much later still ....

However, it cannot be said that that a similar situation was found to exist in the room of the bear of smaller stature, for the following reason: the situation was completely different. Actually this is not altogether true – there were some similarities. Firstly the aroma of person was also present, and secondly the crumples on the bed were also evident. However, exactly here is where all the similarities come to a complete and abrupt end. For the person to whom the aroma belonged, and for whom the search was in progress, was on the bed.

almost home ....

Suddenly it came to pass that she realized, to her happiness, that she was now very close to her house and just in time for dinner. It would be totally wrong and also silly to suggest at this point that she was not happy to be home. This was substantiated by her exclamation of the following words: “How happy I am to be home!”

The end

Some years later, Andre read his version of this well-loved story. He was in stitches! He told us he had no idea he was so funny.