For many years Joy owned the exclusive right in the Durban area to sell Bernina sewing machines, --- the "best there is" said Joy. She built a very successful business upon it. Joy became an extremely skilled seamstress. She would routinely close a sale of the latest very expensive Swiss made top-of-the-line Bernina model, by performing a real-time demonstration of all its amazing features, right there on the floor of her shop in Durban's swanky Musgrave Shopping Centre. Her dazzled customers swooned and reached for their checkbooks. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Joy was fiercely loyal to Bernina, and her feelings on the subject were made clear to all, -- "No shoddy American Singers in my shop! Probably made in Japan, no less." Yes. Joy's devotion to her product allowed her to close the deal like no-one in the business. Fortunately for friends and family, Joy at all times kept her favorite personal Bernina plugged in and ready to go at the family home at 48 Cherry Avenue. She made clothes for the Morrison boys and their friends, curtains for the house, dresses for everyone, and uniforms for the staff, -- you name it. I'm sure that Anne too can remember wearing Joy's creations. On one occasion Joy made "special" matching sailing baggies for me and Derek (and I think for Bruce and my brother Peter as well). They were no ordinary baggies. Mine featured alternating black and red panels, front and back. How proud I was. And the red panels, as you'll see, came to play a significant role in our young lives. Joy's baggies bring me to the next Joy-ful event, --- Richards Bay, Zululand, -- scene of the 1967 Zululand Championships for the Dabchick class. On the final day of the regatta, Derek (skipper) and me (crew) were locked in a desperate struggle for the title against our greatest rivals, David and John Herridge. The Morrison vs. Herridge inter-family rivalry had deep roots. Bruce Morrison was a couple of years older than me and Derek, and in his Dabchick days, -- (he gracefully retired in about 1966 as the reigning South African Champion), -- Bruce had fought out his own battles on the water against Louis Herridge, the oldest of the three Herridge boys. The Herridges lived in the town of Richards Bay and knew the local waters like the backs of their hands. Local knowledge was an advantage of no small importance there, as I'll explain. If I may digress, dinghy sailors like ourselves were always slightly intimidated by the rather unusual combination of ecological factors which made Richards Bay, at least back then in 1967, a somewhat unique and unsuitable venue in which to sail, let alone in which to swim occasionally, if one capsized. This was no Mountain Lakes! There were large, resident man-eating sharks at the "ocean" end of the Bay; large man-eating crocodiles and hippos at the other (or "Mangrove swamp") end of the Bay; and, to add to the excitement, therer were scores of well concealed and ever shifting sandbanks in the narrow middle section of the Bay, where the sailing wisely took place. Derek and I -- wearing our Joy-made baggies -- came to the very last race of the regatta locked in a duel with the Herridge brothers. Ruthless as ever on the water, -- nice guys off it, -- the Herridges pinned us in near to a sand bank, ready to force us aground. As I recall it, (Derek may remember it better), we called for "WATER!" as was our right under the sailing rules, but they refused to give way. We were forced to alter our course to avoid grounding, giving them the precious lead. "PROTEST" we screamed, "PROTEST!!!" We looked around the boat for our protest flag, which is a small square of red cloth that, after a protest, must be flown conspicuously from the yacht's rigging until the finish of the race. Alas! Our protest flag was not to be found, carelessly left ashore. That's when Joy's baggies came to the rescue. The red panels! Just the right size to serve as a protest flag. I whipped off my baggies, tied them to the rigging like a flag, and held them out to display the red panels. We finished the race close behind the Herridges, me just in my underpants, but our protest was preserved. All thanks to Joy. We eventually won the protest and the regatta after a lengthy hearing. In the meantime, we probably spent the time joyfully eating Joy's famous steamed mussels on the deck of the yacht club, collected by her own loving hands from her beloved Zululand shore.