My friend June tells the story of how her mother arrived, as a young bride, a stranger, to the small Eastern Cape village that was to be her home for the next 50 years.

It was the early 1950s and, barely 21, her painfully shy English-speaking mum was now a farmer’s wife. As the new Mrs F settled into life in this foreign Afrikaans community, she made huge efforts to fit in, often pandering to the whims of the demanding, carefully coiffed farmer wives.

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