[On being in the right place, at the right time]
So here I am,1 still in Johannesburg, Joburg, Jozi, the District 9 city. The African version of LA.
The rough & tough old mining town that I was born in. esCAPEd from. And evidently needed to return to make peace with (like an ex-smoker I bore greater rights to cast scorn on its dirty sexy evils when I’d slipped its golden handcuffs in ‘99).
 
Here for the best of reasons – which means I’m not here for the money. And not leaving anytime …

Ever had that guilty fantasy about going on holiday.. and just staying away, yup, simply not going back home at the appointed hour? [Well not YOU of course, because you're a responsible member of society; with a steady job, a mortgage, staff who depend on you, family, a goldfish, a garden, a country to run, an unrelenting to-do list..]. A yearning for that elusive “time to think” maybe? Secretly want that buy-out/retrenchment to force you into finally doing something meaningful? To contemplate higher things. Write that book. Change the shape …