I needed to fetch my little black dress from the Dry Cleaners today.  In most countries, one drives, parks, runs in, picks up the clothes, and runs out again.    Here – not so much.  

Happy Harrys is just a few short blocks from my house.   I jumped into my car. Roared off.  Stopped at the robot.  Eight men appeared at the window.   I bought a homeless magazine, a mop and feather duster that I didn’t need, a cell phone charger, and had my windscreen washed. 

I continued. Pulled…

Parking outside Scusi at 7.30, the local homeless person says “Morning Madam, I clean your car for you, sparkle sparkle.” Fuck no. No. I don’t need a sparkling car. I can’t be kind, so early in the morning. I yell at him, step over the next homeless guy, dodge the doiley seller, and sit down at my usual table. Good coffee, and I manage to ignore the blind kid selling trinkets. I drink, pay, tip the waiter – double - and leave.

And then back to my car. By this time the car guards are all…

Hot sweaty sex is on the decline in Jozi. Not surprising. Trying to work out the perfect time to “do it” has become tricky. The idea of an afternoon quickie is delicious, yet just as your partner is about to de-robe you, the doorbell goes. A broomseller. A beggar. The man with a long sob story about getting his wife to the hospital.  

So you try the nights. Excellent. Children in bed, soft lighting, the smell of bubble bath and candle wax. But the sounds of neighbourhood alarms, police…

If I had to choose between giving birth and going great white shark cage diving again, I think I would choose giving birth.  At least here you have a nurse and the option of pethidine.

There are many things wrong with this sport.

The name, for starters.  There is no diving. There isn’t even snorkeling. What there is, is a lot of holding your breath, ducking down,…

'Dial 255 if you need anything'. Fritz beamed at us. 'You may want your frocks pressed or your shoes polished'. He left our coupe, weighed down not only by his moustache but also by ten pairs of shoes.

We beamed too, sitting in our wood paneled coupe, sipping champagne and popping caviar into our mouths, the world whizzing by.Gazing out of train windows makes one feel poetic. And a little melancholy. One of us was getting over the death of a dear friend. The other, a broken heart. The…