Day 22 - Brave Heart

As residents of Amanzimtoti you can be certain of one thing. The largest (it is said?) 'Highland Gathering' outside of Scotland happens here every year at about the end of April. Every Year. Without fail. As far back as I can remember this has been the case. And as every new year rolls round so the local newspapers claim another new attendance record. So the local organising committee claim it to be the most successful ever. Every year the pipe bands come from afar, each year the food stalls increase in number, each year Miss Highland Gathering thinks she's on the path to greatness, each the year the beer tent turns into a boxing match...

The queue to get into the Highland gathering this morning.

Each year, the local Lions, a charitable organisation gets stuck in to put this effort together. Now, I admire these people. I don't claim to know much about the Lions but they do it because I think they genuinely care, I don't think anyone personally makes any money from this event, and others they are involved in, and it seems all that is raised from the event is donated to various good causes. 


I'm not going to knock these good people. But as an observer I do have a few thoughts, though, on their efforts which I would like to share; and they go something like this:


People belong to the lions on a voluntary basis. Some of them will be self employed and others will be employees. All will be exposed to change in their workplace all the time so....perhaps its time to think a little differently about his event too, perhaps its time to change it, modernise it, turn it on its head.....perhaps is time to bring in a professional event organiser - someone who is versed in putting together large events, someone who is connected where it matters. Yes it might cost a bit of money - but that exposure could be managed - , but you have established an event here that is very well known (but risks degenerating even further into a fete or flea market) and could be perhaps ten times as big as what it currently is. Yes it is enjoyable now as it is but the same people who are supporting it year in and year out are way more market savvy than you think. They are exposed to more and will not hesitate to trade their attendance of this years event, or next years, against attending another event if the other event is perceived to be better. 
With a bit more energy your event could enjoy live TV coverage, celebrity endorsement and the like. There will be blue chip companies out there chomping at the bit to have their name attached to it if they feel they will get sufficient exposure. Incidentally you have, this year and last, sold yourself cheap by your association with the local newspaper. 

LOTS of food stalls!
Note the Health Inspector, with clipboard at back.

If you move the event from one day to two days i.e. make it a festival, you have the opportunity to own the towns entertainment spend for the whole weekend, it would also allow you to make better use of advertising opportunities, it would allow to to charge more to stall holders and ultimately you have an opportunity to make substantially more money that what you are currently making and I don't have to tell you, that the more you make means that there is more to give to needy causes.
Just a thought. It will require balls and a hard sell to get it past the self proclaimed preservers of the past but it could be THE signature event that puts 'texas on the map. Which makes me think. I was there this morning and didn't see the local tourism people there. Surely they were there? Please tell me they were!


My other thought....The irony of this event every year, as seen through my eyes, is that because of the entry fee - yes the Lions charge an entry fee as part of the money raising effort - it is an exclusionary event for those who can't afford to pay it. The do gooders - these Lion types - should suggest that the poor people be let in but I think know that that will come with its own set of problems and will damage the event. So they would rather not let them in and then claim credibility by helping these same people with hand outs. Anyone else see this?

My new company car. Hey this
is Africa!

Waiting....

The Beer Tent - watch the boxing here
later

And finally...to those who are reading this in foreign lands but hail from 'texas. As you can see, nothing has changed. Toti will reverberate to the sound of the pipes tonight, residents around Hutchison park will write to the Sun next week to complain about the noise, the clubs and restaurants will be filled with skirt wearing men tonight. And next year will roll round. And nothing will change.

Until tomorrow.

Day 21 - A Right Royal Frack Up

I don't have any royal connections unfortunately. I didn't crack the nod for an invite either. I'm very disappointed to have been left out. Oh well I'll just 'ave to eat me cucumber sandwiches and wave me flag alone at 'ome. 

Three weeks have passed since starting this. As of now 895 page views. I am competative...so this time tomorrow? 1000 page views? Yesterday it was all about sex and today its all about royalty. Tonight, somewhere in London it will probably be about both. 
I sit here keeping one eye on the wedding of the day / month/ year / decade / century. Waity Katie and Prince Willie will join in holy matrimony, until paparazzi do they part.
The anticipated numbers who will be watching this spectacle run into the billions, 8000 journos are accredited to report on the occasion. Lets go back a step here; 8000! Thats a lot of words. A lot of newsprint. A lot of pretty much of the same images. What it does bring to the fore is how 8000 people will each throw their own slant onto the same occasion, onto the same procession. How each will have their own opinion and how will each have exclusivity, at least of their own thoughts. 


I have often wondered how intelligent, well balanced people (am I well balanced?) are often incapable of seeing both sides of a story. How we allow our emotions, for and against, to cloud this view, how sometimes our 'exclusive' view of an event determines our decisions, and often our future and the future of people important to us. How incapable we are of seeing the other side. You will know that this manifests itself in every situation in your life...the last fight with your spouse, both sides fail to see the merits of the others side, your view of your teams performance, the reasons your business does well or poorly and so on. 
It seems no subject is immune to this. Religion and our personal beliefs that differ to someone else's tears the world apart every day. I day or two ago I wrote about my travels to Bosnia - during their war, children and women from both sides were slaughtered because of the beliefs. The twin towers burned and collapsed because of the radical beliefs of a few.


In South Africa, the Shell Oil Company, displays classic signs of this behaviour. They are, it seems, intent on completely fucking up a large area of the natural Karoo.  Lewis Pugh - who you may know as the 'Human Polar Bear' is rallying support to fight against this. He Recently gave a speech in Cape Town and below is an excerpt of it.


"Enshrined in our new Constitution, is the Right to a Healthy Environment and the Right to Water. Our Constitution states that we have the Right to have our environment protected for the benefit of our generation and for the benefit of future generations.

Fellow South Africans, let us not dishonour these rights. Let us not dishonour those men and women who fought and died for these rights. Let us not allow corporate greed to disrespect our Constitution and desecrate our environment.

Never, ever did I think that there would be a debate in this arid country about which was more important - gas or water. We can survive without gas....  We cannot live without water.

If we damage our limited water supply - and fracking will do just that we will have conflict again here in South Africa. Look around the world. Wherever you damage the environment you have conflict.

Fellow South Africans, we have had enough conflict in this land - now is the time for peace.

A few months ago I gave a speech with former President of Costa Rica.  Afterwards I asked him "Mr President, how do you balance the demands of development against the need to protect the environment?"

He looked at me and said : "It is not a balancing act. It is a simple business decision. If we cut down our forests in Costa Rica to satisfy a timber company, what will be left for our future?"

But he pointed out : "It is also a moral decision. It would be morally wrong to chop down our forests and leave nothing for my children and my grandchildren."

Ladies and gentlemen, that is what is at stake here today: Our children's future. And that of our childrens’ children.

There may be gas beneath our ground in the Karoo. But are we prepared to destroy our environment for 5 to 10 years worth of fossil fuel and further damage our climate?

Yes, people will be employed - but for a short while. And when the drilling is over, and Shell have packed their bags and disappeared, then what? Who will be there to clean up? And what jobs will our children be able to eke out?

Now Shell will tell you that their intentions are honourable. That fracking in the Karoo will not damage our environment. That they will not contaminate our precious water. That they will bring jobs to South Africa.

That gas is clean and green. And that they will help secure our energy supplies.

When I hear this - I have one burning question. Why should we trust them?  Africa is to Shell what the Gulf of Mexico is to BP.

Shell, you have a shocking record here in Africa. Just look at your operations in Nigeria. You have spilt more than 9 million barrels of crude oil into the Niger Delta. That's twice the amount of oil that BP spilt into the Gulf of Mexico.

You were found guilty of bribing Nigerian officials - and to make the case go away in America - you paid an admission of guilt fine of US$48 million.

And to top it all, you stand accused of being complicit in the execution of Nigeria's leading environmental campaigner - Ken Saro-Wira and 8 other activists.

If you were innocent, why did you pay US$15.5 million to the widows and children to settle the case out of Court?

Shell, the path you want us to take us down is not sustainable. I have visited the Arctic for 7 summers in a row. I have seen the tundra thawing.

I have seen the retreating glaciers. And I have seen the melting sea ice.  And I have seen the impact of global warming from the Himalayas all the way down to the low-lying Maldive Islands. Wherever I go - I see it.

Now is the time for change. We cannot drill our way out of the energy crisis. The era of fossil fuels is over. We must invest in renewable energy. And we must not delay!

Shell, we look to the north of our continent and we see how people got tired of political tyranny. We have watched as despots, who have ruled ruthlessly year after year, have been toppled in a matter of weeks.

We too are tired. Tired of corporate tyranny. Tired of your short term, unsustainable practices.

We watched as Dr Ian Player, a game ranger from Natal, and his friends, took on Rio Tinto (one of the biggest mining companies in the world) and won.

And we watched as young activists from across Europe, brought you down to your knees, when you tried to dump an enormous oil rig into the North Sea.

Shell, we do not want our Karoo to become another Niger Delta.

Do not underestimate us. Goliath can be brought down. We are proud of what we have achieved in this young democracy - and we are not about to let your company come in and destroy it.

So let this be a Call to Arms to everyone across South Africa, who is sitting in the shadow of Goliath: Stand up and demand these fundamental human rights promised to you by our Constitution. Use your voices - tweet, blog, petition, rally the weight of your neighbours and of people in power.

Let us speak out from every hilltop. Let us not go quietly into this bleak future.

Let me end off by saying this - You have lit a fire in our bellies, which no man or woman can extinguish. And if we need to, we will take this fight all the way from your petrol pumps to the very highest Court in this land. We will take this fight from the farms and towns of the Karoo to the streets of London and Amsterdam. And we will take this fight to every one of your shareholders. And I have no doubt, that in the end, good will triumph over evil."

Like Shell, I am incapable of seeing the other side, their side, of the story. Shell and its businesses will no longer benefit by my meager patronage. They will sneer at me. But if we all do the same....if we all stop buying their products and if we all tell them that there actions are wrong their arrogant sneers will soon turn to tears. If we stand together we can make a difference.

Until tomorrow.

Day 20 - Sex & Drugs

It’s been an odd week so far. With a public holiday on Monday and again on Wednesday (yesterday) and then another one next Monday it seems that everyone has slipped into holiday mode. I have to admit though that if I was an employee I would have long ago booked three days off…and gone on leave for 11 days! Bit of a no brainer. In yesterdays newspaper a columnist was berating South Africa for its holiday culture and whining that we only really worked ten months of the year, taking a month off in April – with all the public holidays – and another in December. Two months of holiday? Does anyone, who reads this blog, wherever you are in the world, get two months of holiday, do we really have two months of unproductive time? If so then I think I must really have been in the wrong industry.  

I write this from a coffee shop, watching the comings and goings of humanity and mulling over my thoughts. Writing this blog is forcing me to examine my life and part of that are the people who have drifted in an out of it. Now I make no claim on being perfect and I have missed more than one opportunity to maintain a relationship but I believe that where there has been an inkling of friendship I have given to that relationship, I suppose, wanting that to be reciprocated. More often than not, my generosity of spirit has been abused or ignored and a few years ago when things got tough it was notable how most of the ‘friends’ disappeared. It was notable how important employees deserted me when things started to slow, how some of the community in which I live turned their back on me and consequently broke us financially, for a decision that was inevitable but uncomfortable and unpopular. My reflection of these times is jagged.

I have contributed handsomely to the local economy and provided employment to hundreds if not thousands of people in this small town over a period of ten years. I have enjoyed some fabulous support too, make no mistake, but I’m remembered for a six month period when one of my night clubs traded to a black clientele. I am remembered for a litter strewn car park, and some petty crime that happened outside of the club. Yes people, regardless of what you have heard, South Africa is still very much segregated.

I am remembered too for my weaknesses; like taking a stand against drugs – in this day and age and in the night club industry – and against under age drinking (Now before my critics jump up and down, I make no claim that drugs and under age drinking didn’t happen in my businesses, the difference is, and this is what makes me different, I did not condone it one bit, I did not turn a blind eye to it and was more than happy to phone parents and tell them to fetch their children). I also intensely dislike bullies whether they're wearing a uniform or not, or speak from the pulpit or not, and refuse to bow before anyone and especially before people who act above their station in life. In ‘texas, we have a quite a few of these self important idiots.

Over the next while and during my “This is Me” series I will get into a bit more detail about these idiots and all that has happened….

Now, one goes through life, eventually thinking that you know a lot if not everything but I can tell you one of the strangest things to have happened to me during the tough times is that I have been supported by people, often almost strangers, who I really didn’t expect it from.

People who I think sensed a kindred spirit, non judgmental people who could see what I was trying to do, regardless of how poorly I executed it. People who have helped me financially and to whom I still owe money to. People who have invited me to join their circle of life. People who I only see every couple of months. Guys that I sometimes drink beer with on a Friday afternoon, who take the piss out of me but accept me for what it is. These people are important to me. And the two or three original friends out there – you know who you are – you too remain important in my life. I hope I am in yours too.

The clouds are slowly but surely lifting. Maybe blogging is, after all, an alternative to therapy. What do you think?

Until tomorrow.

Day 19 - This is Me (Part 4)

It’s the end of ’98. We’re living in Wallington, Surrey. Life is pretty settled but also pretty boring. I have just returned from SA having attended a mates (sadly that relationship is no more) wedding as his best man. My wife tells me she’s pregnant for the first time (we later are told by the gynae that the date of conception fell while I was away in SA – it would explain the theory that this sprog is from a different planet and knowing my wife, it would give credence to the theory of immaculate conception!), an exciting time in our life! My sister has also arrived and is living with us for a time. The job is going quite well but like I said, boring and ready for a new challenge. It was about at this stage that I realized the importance of corporate politics in your pension and, unfortunately, that corporate politics was not my strength. I watched from the side lines as passionate, knowledgeable and seasoned operators were worked out of the business by those with a personal agenda. I watched as decisions were made by these soulless people for immediate gain but with no longevity. A trade off between short term profit and long term sustainability. Ego over humility. The next grade up in the company car scale at the expense of the tens of thousands of more junior employees. The company as I knew it then no longer exists. It’s only been 11 years.

1999 dawns a new year. The call that I wanted comes through and I am offered a position with a branded chain of pubs working for C.M. I had worked for her before and knew her to be absolutely focused and committed. Goose Pubs was our company’s version of our great rival Wetherspoons. Although our chain was probably the smallest brand in our company, we drove it with such dedication that before long the honchos at the top were sitting up and taking notice. Returns were beyond impressive which meant that doors (in terms of investment, choice of sites etc) started to open for us. Work hours were extreme, politics again sucked!

While all this was going on we sold our apartment in Bournemouth and wanted to buy a house. It needed to be around west London as my wife worked just west of central London, it needed to be near a train station, it needed to be in the ‘country’ and it needed to have reasonably close access to the motorway network. So, we took a road map, on the page that showed London to Slough and stabbed a finger at an area, “right, let’s go and have a look there!” And we found Higher Denham which is a few miles from Uxbridge. It filled all of the above criteria. So we drove the three streets of Higher Denham, Lower Road, Middle Road and…wait for it…Upper Road and in Middle Road we found what we were looking for. A stand alone house, with a garden. With a For Sale sign outside. So we knocked at the door. And an 80 something ex South African woman opened it! And, this is the creepy, the world is a small place, bit…she still had family living in South Africa, in Amanzimtoti actually….living next door to my parents!! I wonder what the betting odds would have been?

We bought the house. It was rotten. So for three weeks we worked like dogs and renovated this house, by ourselves, from top to bottom, and then needing a break I went back to work!

Our daughter was born late in 1999. Snow fell that winter and work was going well. I had recently been promoted and was traveling up and down the country more than ever before. Our travels to other countries had just about stopped. The Land Rover stood idle in the garage. It seemed that life was passing us by, and then in about February of 2000 I stumbled across an ad for a Land Rover rally to Bosnia. Their war had only ended the year before so here was opportunity to both drive the hell out of Europe and to witness the aftermath of the biggest conflict in Europe since the Second World War. I paid the entrance fee. Game was on. My parents came over and the old man and I packed our stuff and headed for Canterbury where we met up with the rest of the rally participants. Day One: 1000km’s to Innesbruck. In a Defender. Not going very fast. At all!

This trip over 10 days took us through France, Germany, some activities in Austria, Slovenia, Croatia to Bosnia via a British Tank Regiment base (where we were allowed to crawl all over the Challenger II tank before braaiing with them) Having been at war some 10 years + before this it was a poignant reminder of the pointlessness of it all. Everywhere wore the scars of this bitter battle and remember this was a war divided on religious grounds so the slaughter of both sides had been wholesale and brutal. The almost deserted city of Sarajevo, torn apart by shell after shell welcomed our military led convoy of Land Rovers. The British Ambassador’s back yard was our campsite for a couple of nights, guarded on one side by a mine field and on the other by our fervent hope that the war was actually over. Now, when you sleep next to a minefield you really don’t want to disturb the fragile piece….but isn’t alcohol a marvelous thing? Bottle after empty bottle sailed across the fence. Not one bang the whole night. Boring! But we did hear music and went exploring the streets of Sarajevo on foot…but that’s another story!

The following day we, the Land Rover people were the guests of honour at a festival in Sarajevo. Here we were presented with medals (I still don’t know why) by Prince Andrew and one more night in the city before the old man and I left the group and headed for Calais, about 2500 km away.

It’s now the end of June 2000. We have returned to England, my parents have left, my mentor and boss C.M has unrepentantly resigned from the company and I’ve just about had enough and will soon be making a life changing decision….

Until tomorrow…

Day 18 - Land of the Free

Tomorrow, 27 April, is Freedom Day in South Africa. Yet another public holiday where productivity stops, and people celebrate for it seems no other reason than just because. This is also the date that we as South Africans lost our pariah status in the eyes of the world (The pariah status was also temporarily lifted by the various governments of the world if, of course, our cheque was big enough to buy, um,  nuclear capability – yes true story -  or we had something like – let me think here – gold or perhaps diamonds to trade with. Imagine if we had oil!) and officially became a democracy. As far as whites were concerned we were already a democracy, with may I add, a battle hardened highly effective military, nuclear capability, a world class road network, effective banking systems, enough farming to keep us all fed, and an attitude and arrogance to put two fingers up to the rest of the world. But it had to change. We all know that and this was the time when all adults, regardless of creed or colour were given the vote to elect a government of the people.

Seventeen years ago, on this date, I stood, for hours in the rain and in the mother of all queues that enveloped South Africa House in Trafalgar Square, London. We stood. we chatted, I think we were all positive about it, I know I was. And I think most of us there were working illegally. It was what a young South African on a South African passport did back then. Everyone went to London, everyone worked. Everyone ducked and dived. Now, I digress somewhat, but ask yourself this; if you worked for British Immigration back then – you know, those people who used to give us a rev or two at Heathrow -  wouldn’t it have been a great opportunity to round us all up and send us packing in one swoop? Maybe African bureaucracy is not that far behind after all?

Freedom Day. Now that’s an interesting term. We live in suburbs, trapped behind barbed wire and electric fences. Our houses are alarmed, our perimeters are secured by invisible beams, we train our dogs and hope they will survive the poisoned meat sent over the fence to distract them. We teach our children not to open the electric gate or the door at home under any circumstances, those who can afford it, install CCTV to monitor the surrounds of their house, some employ permanent armed guards at their homes and businesses, other can only afford armed response and hope that they will get there before its too late. No one trusts the police to do anything positive or get there and one hopes that you never have to deal with them. The more organized street communities erect booms across the roads and guards check the comings and goings of neighbours and friends.

In our cars, we drive with the windows closed, at night you stop at the traffic lights and stop streets at your own peril. A visit to friends is pre arranged so that the gate opens just as you arrive in case there are bandits lurking. We all know someone who has been hijacked or attacked. We know people who have had their bank card cloned and accuse them of being ‘negligent’ or worse still ‘stupid’ because they let their card out of their sight.

We accept crime because our children know no different but we – as individuals and citizens and business owners and government we know how to stop it. But it’s not a profitable solution. Crime provides employment. VAT is earned off the replacement of stolen goods. Jobs are created by crime. But we put our collective heads in the sand and we blame poverty but won’t tip the car guard or the waitress. We carry weapons, of various types and intensity, the government wants to take away our licensed guns. Perhaps if they put as much effort into finding illegal guns as they have put into finding ways of disarming law abiding people our communities would be different. And safer.

I could go on and on. Freedom Day? What has our world come to? We, as South Africans of all colours, are all affected and hence have way less freedom now than ever before.  

And still we have majestic mountains virtually untouched, natural habitat and biodiversity that is the envy of the world, internationally acclaimed heritage sites and natural beauty that should bring people from all corners of the planet. We have abundant space and various climates. You can suntan and snow ski in one day, our beaches are magnificent, the majority of our people are friendly and welcoming. We have the solutions to solve our own problems but still this privileged life is deteriorating around us – and there doesn’t seem to be a way out. Is it just Africa? Is it going to change? Should we get used to it?

Does this frighten you? Has it at least made you think? Are you free to go anywhere in the land of your parents? Are you going to do anything about it? And finally to simplify this; how comfortable are you taking a peaceful, maybe romantic walk on an isolated stretch of beach?

Happy Freedom Day. Until tomorrow.

Day 17 - Roger Rabbit

Easter Monday. The day after. The sugar rush, only diluted by vast quantities of Sunday roast, is subsiding. The bunny has left us to do what bunny rabbits do best, and today is a public holiday which means that we get to do nothing other than wallow. The sun is shining again, which is fabulous, we have been for breakfast - which is always interesting with an energetic 6 year old - and the better half has now taken our sprogs to the beach to hopefully burn some energy and I am here...trying to write this positively. I am accused of being negative in this blog (is there a difference between honest opinion and negativity) so today I will not tell you about my waning feelings for the coffee shop and its management at my newest favourite shop. No, I won't do it. No, don't ask. One of the downsides of having worked in hospitality for so long is that I get frustrated when things are not done right. When management, who are there anyway, could put in a bit more effort and make such a difference to your experience at the place you are at. This is not unique to Amanzimtoti or South Africa...I bet it happens where you live too.


Anyway, today I feel good. I awoke this morning, early, and stumbled through to the smell of coffee. Plonking down on the couch  my one open eye took in Extreme Makeover Home Edition on the box. Not wanting to disturb the warmth of our marital bliss I obviously said nothing  - I assume you know what this program is all about. If you don't; simply, its about a crew of designers who through their TV network in the USA go out and in 7 days change people's lives through building them a new home. The people have been afflicted by unimaginable hardship and the community gets involved to better their lives! Only in America? Maybe? But it did get me thinking. Now for those who know me will know that expressing my emotion is not my strength, I am definitely not in touch with my feminine side at all and guys who are cry, well, quite frankly, I find a bit odd. This morning touched something in me and I wondered how, if Extreme Makeover came to my community to help someone in dire need would I and would we get involved? It also led me to wonder if those involved in this TV program are actually who they portray themselves to be, are they so generous with their spirit when the cameras are off? I don't know the answer. 


What I think I know is that we, as individuals, could do so much more for our respective communities if we gave up just a little time. I don't do it. I haven't done it. I don't actually know where to start. But I think if we all gave up a bit it could be better. Now, before you all start to think that I may have lost it completely, I'm not talking about save the whales here, or international aid, or earthquake relief, all that and more requires a certain type of person I think, I'm talking about taking a small amount of your time and investing it without reward or even recognition in your community. It is a bit alien. I know. But wouldn't it be a better place if we did this? The program portrays American communities getting involved to help. Are their communities better than ours or that much different to ours? I doubt it. 
I have written before about people who give to take, do you think we could give because we can instead? For me, I am honest enough to know that it would take some time for this to become a mindset, I am guilty in the past of giving sponsorship for recognition and self advancement, and I am very distrusting of people who genuinely expect nothing in return.  I am also cynical enough to know that there will be people out there who will abuse the system of paying it forward. I doubt that I am unique in these thoughts. I would be curious to know your thoughts on this. You will see that I have added a basic poll thingy on this blog, if you go to the top it should be on the right.


Being relatively new at this blogging thing I am currently fairly consumed by it. Obsessed my wife would say. I have today, in fact, discovered the poll thingy which I'll fiddle with over the coming days, I have tried, unsuccessfully, I think, to figure out how to add a slideshow to my page and linking this to my photos on my facebook profile, I have also kept an eye on where in the world people are who read this - todays new entrants are in China and India, so welcome to you whoever you are. I have also tried to explain why I'm doing this to someone - they had that blank "oh this won't last' look - eventually it boiled down to 'because I can'. This is my digital diary. This is my story. You may not like some of it. Thats cool. I look forward to engaging with you because our opinions will be different.


Until then and until tomorrow.

Day 16 - Bunny Chow

So the fluffy white (seriously I saw him this morning) English speaking chocolate loving bunny rabbit made his way across our garden this morning. I know this because I was woken from my slumber to witness this annual pilgrimage to the god that is Cadbury. At 5am to be precise. My better half even turned off the house alarm, put the pins back into the limpet mines and booby strung hand grenades, deactivated the machine guns, checked the cameras and called in the man eating rottweilers. After she had rechecked the threat status she opened the thick steel door of the safe room and off we went to spread some cheer. Our kids, oblivious to our efforts of encouraging their obesity, slept, peacefully, only awakening after 7am. Every other day of the year, we’re woken by them, normally before 6. Go figure!

If you’re not from SA and wondering, when you looked at the title, what a bunny chow is; in simple terms it’s normally half a loaf of bread, partially burrowed out and filled with the curry of your choice. I know, it sound a bit odd but believe me, whole dynasties have been built on the ability to make a good ‘bunny’. What does it taste like? Well…a bit like curry and bread actually.

Ok, if you’re not a living in South Africa South African then I’m only kidding about all the security stuff. Everything is absolutely safe here in this paradise and you should come home and reintegrate into SA society. The government can’t wait to welcome you back, because, after all, who are they going to drive into the sea when the revolution comes. And the sun will be shining and you can cook some meat on a fire, just like they did in the time of the ox wagon. There will also be lots of time for reintegration, especially if you are white, male and about 40 years old. You can reintegrate while standing in the unemployment queue, whilst sleeping under the bridge or in your hijacked car. You could make new friends at church whilst praying for a job and a roof over your heads and at the beach because it’s the only free thing to do. South Africa is after all, a land of opportunity. Where else in the world have former shack dwellers and almost uneducated individuals amassed billions in a matter of 16 years. Where else in the world does your surname guarantee you and all your mates a life of privilege and opulence? Where else in the world are farmers killed and their land redistributed, where else are farmers not valued – after all, they only grow the food we eat! OK OK, Africa doesn’t count, pick a country outside of Africa.

I have to admit that I have long forgotten the true significance of Easter but writing this blog has made me think about it more now than I can remember. The country we live in – SA - won’t forgive us for our wrongs. Our children will suffer because, although integrated at school they will grow up separate and tainted by our prejudice. We won’t admit that we enjoy the privilege of power, we won’t admit that some of the deeds that are done are wrong and most of all we won’t admit that we are all not too dissimilar. Neither side can turn back the past but I guess the trick now is to find common purpose and common belief. South Africa is a mainly Christian country. As was Rwanda. And look what happened there.

Am I the only one to look at what’s happening in north Africa now and what has happened in places like Rwanda and wonder when it will start here? Even the so called experts think that our Zimbabwe moment is not too far off. The Julius Malema’s of this country talk openly about the coming revolution…there is some frightening stuff here. And all will be affected. At home we employ a 70 something black woman who comes to work twice a week. She has worked for my parents and us for the best part of 20 years. She lives in fear and in her own words, she tells us that her quality of life during the apartheid years far outshines her current situation. Now I know that this would not be a popular thing to say at the ANC conference and it may offend your sensibilities but, and this is a big but, if the masses, who have the voting power, were to rub the shit out of their eyes and the brains and education to look a little closer at today’s politicians in power than we might have a significantly better country. Unfortunately though, history is against us. Repeatedly in Africa

This is the time of forgiveness. This is the time, South Africans, to realize our predicament. This is the time to recognize those who could make a difference in all our lives. This is the time to set aside our differences, and there are many, and encourage those people to go out and make a difference. Our lives, after all, depend on them.

On a lighter note, the fluffy little flea infested rabbit has moved on for this year. Hopefully not to give good luck to 4 people. Get it? I hope your Easter is peaceful.

Until Tomorrow. God Speed.

Day 15 - The Hot Cross Bunny

Two weeks and one day. Post fifteen of 365. The sun is shining in a light breeze. I’m feeling good. It seems my considerably better half and our jointly constructed off spring are happy too. The off spring are considering the heights of their sugar rush tomorrow morning, my daughter, who is 98% sure that the easter bunny doesn’t really exist, is planning on how she will keep her eggs from her younger brother.  The Sharks are playing today in Durban in a game that they should win, there are holiday makers everywhere (with the combined Easter public holidays and the schools shutting its another longish holiday), people, for their own reasons, are in a festive mood, and no doubt a chilled beer or two will be drunk later around the braai / BBQ.

This will be the first Easter in my kids lifetime that I will witness the passage of the Easter bunny through our garden. Having owned niteclubs forever I have always got home too late – or too early depending on your outlook on life – to witness this ritual. I have in the past chuckled to myself. We have a tradition in our family of leaving out a glass of milk and a carrot for the elusive rabbit – and my job for the last 10 years, on arrival from the club was to make sure the milk was drunk and the carrot eaten or at least chewed upon. Now picture the scene; dodgy nite club owner comes home, invariably after a drink or two, trying to keep quiet so as not to awaken the sleeping kids he chews on the milk and drinks the carrot… you do the maths! At least I didn’t have to do the rabbit footprints down the passage. My wife, being the ever thoughtful one, always ensured that the biggest carrot she could find was always left out for me. Christmas too was also a good time, mince pies and a glass of milk. At four o’ clock in the morning. With my Christmas spirit on.

I often wonder what motivates people to do certain things. On the local news this morning it was reported that a church in Chatsworth was busy erecting a 50m high cross, the on site news reporter breathlessly telling the watchers that it would be four times higher than the church building itself and higher than the Statue of Liberty. Now I’ve been to the top of the Statue of Liberty and am pretty sure that its quite high – the steps seemed to go on forever - and am pretty sure the view from the top is better too. I’m not against the cross in Chatsworth, but I do think the money raised to manufacture and erect this Christian symbol could have been better spent carrying out anonymous Christian acts of generosity. And I wonder how they got planning permission for it. In this day and age when the world is full of liberals and no one, it seems, is ballsy enough and prepared to put their name to something that might be controversial. I’m sure the Muslims will have a thing or two to say about this in due course. Unfortunately for them it might be a bit small for them to fly a plane into. I can however recommend a few alternative targets in ‘texas.

On the same news program, it was reported that over 30 people have died on the roads so far in South Africa since Thursday, today is Saturday and its now about lunch time. More than 30. How many people die on the roads in New Zealand or Australia and England? In 3 days? In December more than 1000 people died. In one month. I have previously eluded to my favourite subject of persevering stupidity, and this is a good example of this. Every holiday is the same. And our erstwhile police departments still think that hiding behind bushes speed trapping people is the way to go. Do you not think that if the police took a more proactive and educational approach and actually patrolled the highways and byways, positively correcting bad driving habits, the death toll and stupidity would decrease? Do you not think that if they set the example and were themselves law abiding the death toll would decrease? Do you not think that if they were paid more, recruited better and trained more effectively the corruption would decrease and the moral would increase? Do you not think that if they – and this now applies to all who apply laws and penalties -  applied the law evenly and without fear or favour that the country would improve? Obviously there are those serving who are worthy of being respected, you I respect and this is not meant for you. It’s the rest that piss me off. I have moaned repeatedly in the past about countries like Britain being police states, but hell, their system works and people are, in the main, law abiding and their country’s moral fiber is bound tightly. And they have invested in the resources to apply the law.

To anyone reading this, my wishes to you for this time. I hope your medical plan is up to date and covers visits to the dentist. Now, which supermarket was it that had a special on rabbit………..

Until tomorrow. God Speed.

Day 14 - Bunny Hugger

I think I might be losing my marbles. Someone I know recently suggested that writing a blog is an alternative form of therapy or counseling. For some, it is easier to express their thoughts and feelings in writing, others are a bit more vocal and love to tell the world or anyone who will listen about whatever problem they have. Which is better? I guess all of us are different. Or uniquely similar.

My very limited experience of blogging has been a bit of an eye opener for me. I find myself thinking about it all the time. And I don’t have a list of things that I’m going to write about in advance. Maybe I should? To me it would be a bit contrived though. It just seems to happen, I will see something or hear something or wake up in the middle of the night with a thought in my head. A conversation with someone will spark a thought process and off I go. This all sounds a bit self riotous I know and I’m sure that when Day 237 rolls around I may well have a different viewpoint.  And my two fingered typing method, which is now working overtime, will hopefully have improved to maybe three or four fingers!

I know I need to finish the ‘This is Me’ bit but it seems too easy because I already the story and I’m not sure how interested people are in me. I was asked last night about whether or not I’m ever going to name people, people who have either pissed me off (there’s a few of those) or done good to me (and there’s a few of those too). I don’t know is the cop out answer, being in hospitality in ‘texas, I have seen a few things. And I could tell a story or two about a few people. But you know what they say about throwing stones in glass houses…..so...not a no definitely but when the time is right…maybe.

So is blogging a form of therapy? I suppose no more than facebook. Have you seen some of the shit that people put on fb? I find it strange that people are happy to share their prejudice or love in a public forum but then get offended when people comment on their lives. Um, hello…am I the only normal one out there? I also, however, wonder about normal people who don’t have a facebook account. It’s a bit like a cell phone I suppose, you need it, people would think you’re odd or eccentric if you didn’t have one, you can’t do without but if you’re anything like me you don’t want it. A random thought: are there still pay phones out there that you can put money / coins into? I don’t think I’ve seen one forever.

I can’t afford to go to a shrink or therapist. And I’m pretty sure I would be uncomfortable off loading to a complete stranger. [ As a side note, my wife often questions my sanity but I swear she’s from a different planet so she doesn’t count. My loin fruit are definitely not from this planet either. My parents and siblings too. I think its just me, the only normal one here. Oh yes and you too, so I can tell you everything. Every day. For 365 days. But you gotta promise not to tell anyone. OK?]

A shrink would probably certify me, this would be after I try and convince them to partner me in a business venture, it would be after I have advised them on how to manage their business better. I would convince them of their need to join BNI – more about BNI later, I would explain the power of networking, I would invite them round for a braai / BBQ, I would invoice them for my advice offered. And then they would certify me. And when I got to the funny farm. I would strategize on the best way to grow pork chops. And work out what the food cost would be too.

Just like Africa, hospitality in ‘texas is not for sissies. I drives you mad. People can’t just sell steak and chips with mushroom sauce. That would be too friggin’ easy. No; the steak must be perfectly aged for fourteen days and grilled to your liking, lightly basted in our home made secret, passed down from grand ma, sauce. Vegetables are a medley of country fresh pickings from our garden, glazed in pure Italian olive oil. Every second thing we do is approved by the heart foundation and our menu is sponsored by coke – the liquid not the powder. Chips are home cut, every time I see this I see in my mind a little old lady peeling potatoes and chipping them with a blunt paring knife,  our welcome is warm and loving and our waiters are non judgemental ( I seriously saw this “our waiters are non judgemental” on a promo leaflet for Easter Sunday Lunch at the Edward Hotel. I kid you not.) Can we not just sell steak and chips with mushroom sauce? How difficult can it be? Are people that stupid that they are actually attracted to a restaurant by all this rubbish. Has anyone ever asked the Spur corporation how they got their credentials of being the ‘Official Restaurant of the South African Family’. They’re not mine that’s for sure. As it happens, I do have Spur story to tell but will get to that in due course…

I think I have officially lost my marbles so that’s it for today. My wishes to you for a happy Easter. And if your God doesn’t allow you to celebrate Easter, that’s too bad. Be safe anyway.

Until tomorrow. God speed 

Day 13 - Advertising and Tequila

Justin Nurse and I would probably get on quite well. You may know of him. A while ago he had a company called Laugh It Off and they produced satirical T Shirts that took the piss out of big companies through their logo’s. I can only assume that that he was the brain child behind these items and the message was his personal opinion. I don’t know. But they were funny. To everyone. Except the suits. They were not amused.

So much so that S.A.B took him to court because he parodied their logo for Carling Black Label Beer to “Black Labour, White Guilt”. They lost and S.A.B looked like dicks bullying a small guy, and best of all S.A.B. had to pay all costs.

Now advertising, as we all know, is a necessary evil if you want your business to get ahead. Bit I ask, are students of advertising trained or educated to portray life and or situations in the rosiest of views, or have they found that it is the best and most boring method to get sales results? But – and this is the now famous but again – am I the only one to get irritated when advertisers picture a scene so overly sweet and so overly innocent in order to try and get the message through. Here’s an example; there is an ad currently being aired in South Africa. Its for a financial planning company – I can’t remember who exactly (so much for effective advertising?), they all sharks anyway – and they portray a picture of SA suburbia with waist high white picket fences, perfectly manicured gardens, pot hole free roads and landscaped verges. And black and white families living in harmony next door to each other, dad fixing the gutters while the kids play ball with each other and the other adults tan some meat in the front garden…and then, as the ad reaches its climax the black males are going off to watch a game and a clean, unbranded mini bus taxi turn up at their suburban home and whisks them off, narrowly avoiding an accident a few meters down the road.

Have you seen this ad? Does it irritate you? Do these companies who make these ads get the reality of living in South Africa? Or...is this reality? Is it me that hasn’t experienced this? Does this actually happen? I suspect not, but if it happens where you live, PLEASE let me know.

Surely, when the ad agency pitches their latest work to their clients, the client would say something about what the ad represents. Surely they would both question their own integrity and hence the authenticity of the picture created. Surely a booze company like SAB and Brandhouse, for example, are staffed by intelligent (when last I checked they wouldn’t employ anyone unless they have a degree – any degree will do), well adjusted people who understand the market in which they trade. Surely these same people would look at the ads and say something like “what a pile of shit, we don’t live like that”. Why is it that Brandhouse wins accolades for an ad that suggests, through suggestive filming and popular myth, what would happen to you if caught driving whilst drunk but doesn’t have an ad that shows the aftermath of a session on their tequila. Picture the hook line “TEQUILA: DRINK THIS AND YOU TOO WILL BECOME STRONG AND CAUSE SHIT BEFORE THROWING UP”. Now that would be Gold…sir!

And why is it that just about every beer ad is racially correct. Unless, of course, it’s the latest Hansa ad – then it’s about a rich black guy entertaining his black mates on his yacht with a mountain of beer. If I was a rich black guy I would be offended. Surely SAB would know…because they do own about 90% of the South African beer market!... that I only drink premium beer from a green bottle – oh, they don’t do Amstel anymore?, OK Heineken then – but my favourite is actually Black Label (get it?)  A white male, an Indian male, a coloured male and a black male always hang out together, at home, in the pub, they touch pause engage together and they celebrate life together. And they all drink Castle? I doubt it.

I wonder how much it costs to flight an ad on prime time television – I can’t imagine it’s cheap and to top that I wonder how effective, and measurable it is? I know when I’m in front of the box and the hour long series is constantly interrupted by ads, I channel surf. I try everything to avoid watching the ads. Everything. Because the maker of these ads, I think, live on a different planet, or maybe even in Cape Town!

I know this is my shallow take on the advertising world, I completely understand, I think, that advertising goes a lot deeper that what I have suggested but I have been known to get frustrated when money that could be put back into making the product better or at least cheaper is wasted on banal boring or bombastic ads. I suppose the final question today would be; do you even think about the ads when you’re watching TV? And if they weren’t there, would you miss them?

I wouldn’t miss the ads. Not one bit.

One final thought, I re visited my new favourite shop today just to see if it was still so good. Hell yeah. Even bought shit I didn’t need! Maybe I am, after all, a shopper waiting to exit the closet.

Until tomorrow! I need a beer....

P.S. my favourite TV ad this week? The South African National Defence Force i.e. the army, congratulating itself on being so good. So good at what? The spread of HIV? The arms deal maybe? Actually, scrap the beer, I'll have that tequila now.

Day 12 - Women over 40

A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, 'What are you thinking?' She doesn't care what you think. If a woman over 40 doesn't want to watch the Sharks, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's sometimes and in fact usually more interesting. Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the movies or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it. Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated. Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40. Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart. Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a dick if you are acting like one. ;You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her. Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons, unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 40, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologise.

And I was going to add the retort for when those men say, 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?', its goes something like this though...something about an entire pig and a bit of sausage.

Now I'm sure you realise that I didn't write this, not because I'm not sexist but probably because...and this is my self admission... I'm not talented enough. It did tickle me though because my significant other half might (notice the might? gotta be safe here) fall into this category.

I also picked this up which I wanted to share, this time written by a philosophical comedian but caught my attention because of its profoundness. It seems that life today is complicated....

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. 

We have increased our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbour. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. 

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less. 

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable nappies, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this blog to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just close the page. 

The bold bits here are me...I make no claim on the stuff above but how true it is. This is the kind of stuff you get on e mail and is considered junk or worse still, spam. This is the kind of stuff that we don't like to talk about, that we bury our heads in the sand from. For all I know it could have an effect on you. Maybe you've seen it before...so what. If it provokes thought and conversation around your dinner table, if it changes just one person's actions then maybe I will be considered an achiever.

The reality, I suspect, is that the majority of people will not have the time to read all this on the expensive technology that they have bought for this exact reason.

As of writing this, page views of this blog are close to 500. I don't know if this is good or bad? Maybe you can tell me. Now I'm really trying, seriously I am, not to be competitive...but it seems to be written in my soul.

Have a great day. Until tomorrow.

Day 11 - Medical Emergency!

I guess people write blogs for different reasons. For some it’s a personal journey, others a purge of the demons, for others an admission to no one in particular of certain facts. Others just to share. What will probably be quite common is that the intended audience may not be who you think they will be. The content of the blog may or may not offend individuals and conversely the expected / unexpected comments may offend the blogger.

This is my experience so far. So my question to myself today is; what more do I expect from this experience?

I would hope, I think, to spark a thought or two in whoever reads this, I would hope for some reasonable debate and I would hope that I would grow, personally, from this.

I think it’s important to state here that this is a collection of my thoughts, my critiques and my observations. Some of it may be negative because I’m human and my thoughts and doings are the product of my environment. Those who tell you that all is positive in their life are either living in denial, lying or hiding something so I make no apologies to you if my thoughts differ to yours, but I would like to hear from you via the comments box on the blog.

Don’t you find it weird that people will make life changing decisions that affect generations of their future offspring, based on lifestyle? For example (and I say this in case you think I’m anti South Africa, which I’m not) people will move back or to South Africa because the lifestyle is better than where they are. Because the sun shines! Because meat is cheaper and we can braai / BBQ at the weekends! Because we have the best rugby team! There are a number of web sites and public forums that extol the positive virtues of living in South Africa but conveniently fail to inform properly about the negatives. And there are negatives. Lots of them. As much as you don’t want to hear about them, as much as you are homesick in the countries in which you live and have favourable memories of SA, they exist, and you should consider them. And South Africa is not unique in this. But because I live here, and because I vote, I can comment. And you can agree or disagree.

So let’s not talk about crime. Everyone has a story, as you know.

Let’s talk about one of the many hidden taxes. Let’s talk about medical aid and private hospitals.

If there is a grudge payment out there then this is it! Now, I’m not an expert at all about this and maybe I just don’t understand it but the generation that currently exists right now pays this “tax” because it’s supposed to guarantee our right to quality medical care. We have long ago forgotten that it’s actually the government’s responsibility, via our taxes, to provide quality medical care and assistance. We accept that to survive trauma in this country we need cover. We nod in acceptance that medical aid funds, although highly regulated, make obscene profits, that our loyalty to these funds is as valued as the last monthly debit order. But no one says anything, no one challenges the system. No one wants to be without it in the event of trauma. God forbid. (And I know someone, without medical aid, who died because their spouse couldn’t, on a Sunday night, raise 50k as a security deposit for the hospital)

And when trauma does happen, and if you have medical aid, you invariably end up at a privately run, for profit, hospital. And everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Until the bills start rolling in. You know. The ones that your medical aid was supposed to pay for. Your specialist is contracted out, the X Ray dept is privately run and contracted out, the Path lab is contracted out, oh no you didn’t have pre authorization for this or that. But don’t worry, they all say, submit our over inflated profiteered invoices to your medical aid for a refund from them – and you can deal with the medical aids overly complicated and not particularly helpful admin dept. Good luck with that! (and this is where a clever broker comes in – if you have a good broker, hang onto them, they could end up saving your life, literally!)

And to top it all off, why in this super expensive environment, is hospital food still so shit!

Is this negative? Am I the only one to have had these experiences? Am I really shit out of luck?

Look forward to hearing from you.

Until tomorrow. God speed.

Day 10 - A Character Defined

As I’ve got older my character has defined. My memory is definitely not what it used to be – and before the peanut gallery starts to chirp, it hasn’t gone completely, it’s just sometimes a little hazy around the less important stuff - , my newly renewed driving licence notes that I now need to wear glasses whilst driving, I’m often speechless and amazed when presented with evidence of the march of technology and I get irritated quickly. With stupid people and especially with greedy people. So what is my definition of greed? People who make a show of highlighting their giving attributes, but whose primary motivation is taking. People who give to take.

As life has gone on, my character has defined. I look back now and realize that before the knocks – and there has been a few – I would have been classified, by my own definition, as greedy. It is said that there is a plan for each of us and I guess my eyes began to open to the power of giving, in the autumn of last year.

Wanting my son to play soccer – he was then 5 – I enrolled him into what was then Twini FC. As the season unfolded I was constantly and pleasantly amazed by the people in the club. Their absolute giving to the coaching and the organizing of this club was impressive to watch. And unlike anything, experienced through my eyes anyway, in Toti before, there was no politics, there was a common goal, there was passion for the right reasons. No one, it seemed, wanted to be bigger than the club, there appeared to be no hidden agenda and most importantly there appeared to be no ego’s or self riotousness involved.

In the spring of that same year, my daughter joined nippers for the fist time and again, I was astounded by the giving of the coaches and the organizers. These people give up their time and their energy to teach others. There appears to be no profit motive in either organization. The people aren’t paid for their time. OK, there has to be an argument that perhaps if the clubs did have a bit of a profit motive there would be more resource to put into the club. Perhaps the nippers could have been more organized but so what, just like at soccer, there were no ego’s, no hidden agendas. It will improve and I can see the progress in my children.

I don’t know if anyone from either of these two clubs will ever read this piece, if they do, they will know who they are and please know that I salute you.

My point to this whole piece. I have found myself questioning how I can give back to others. I get it that people are at different stages in their life and some people will forever chase riches. Some people will whine about anything, some people have been there and done it, and some people only do it for their personal exposure and ultimately their personal enrichment. How can I balance my life in the community in which I live? I have no desire for politics other than to vote, I have my own, very personal, view on religion, I have no desire to confront egotistical “look at me while I try and save the world from their mistakes” idiots. If I lived in the Karoo I would probably want to be involved in the fight against the oil companies desire to fuck up this pristine environment – all thirty thousand square kilometers of it! I’m not a tree hugger but I’m against the concreting of every available inch of land by property developers and – this is the biggest change in me – I’ve realized that money and things aren’t everything (and the cynics out there will probably think that this is because I no longer have either).

Today is a bit random. And I’m not suggesting you should think like I do. Just know that there are stacks of people out there who are really giving. The trick is to identify those who are giving to take. And you’ll know lots of them.

Until tomorrow. God speed…..