BREAKFAST IN PARYS. THE LAST ‘MISS GAY RHODESIA’S EGGS

“Parys? The last time I was in Parys, I was on the way with 10 other moffies to go make kak in Kroonstad.” I had just asked Michael Crouse, the last Miss Gay Rhodesia to come to Parys (Free State) for breakfast. I wanted him to join me in a food and travel revue. “Are…

PEOPLE I MET AT THE FAT FARM

The “Fat Farm’ aka Health Hydro is a place where you go to relax, detox or in my case, go for a few days in a desperate attempt to slow down the rapacious pace of my weight gain and the ever-growing list of addictions and compulsive eating and drinking behaviours threatening to tear my body…

MY FEAR OF BEER

‘I like a good beer buzz early in the morning.’ sings Cheryl Crow. I wouldn’t know. I don’t like beer. I detest the stuff. I don’t understand how people can get so excited about that crisp swoosh sound as you crack it open. The delirium about the foamy head. And the celebration as the dewy…

The Mulberry That Didn’t Fit In

I found an odd-looking mulberry in my mulberry tree this afternoon. It had a bloody cheek being there. I mean, it is autumn, but there it was, brandishing a bright colour, as if to say “Look at me one last time before winter.” The Mulberry that Didn’t Fit In It was totally out of place….

SHOCKING DISCOVERY! MY CHILDHOOD EASTER EGG HUNTS WERE GUPTA’D!

  When we were small, Easter was a big deal. Cousins gathered round at one of the Tannie’s houses and we would all hunt for easter eggs. I hated it. Secondly, there was this competition thing to see who would get the biggest and only giant bunny or golden egg. Delivered directly by the Easter…

FEASTING ON FUGARD, PICKING ON PICASSO

As a birthday present for my friend Kathleen, I took her to see a play, with lunch thrown in. A play by the famous Fugard, nogal – at the Market Theater, nogal. The purpose was to inspire her to get back on the stage and to write her a one woman show. The plan worked,…

DON’T ACT YOUR AGE

I had lunch with an old friend today. We both had hard childhoods and were in the same class, although neither of us were aware of the others hardships at the time. Around us, young people and pupils were laughing, having lunch, exploring fashion and enjoying being young. We sort of skipped all of that….

MOGALE TAVERN: PAP AND VLEIS AND SHUT THE FUCK UP

“Those white fucking Afrikaners,” said the black man angrily, looking straight at me. “No offence.” “None taken,” say I, a white fucking Afrikaner. We cheers merrily, with a crisp, icy cider. I can assure you that the statement was given and received with sincerity and openness. Compassion, even. More than that – relief. A reprieve…