I was in a Brussels hotel and would be connecting to Heathrow in the morning. I had taken a hotel towel and plugged the gap under the hall door and rolled a pleasant doobie, switching on the tv to see what was on. And there they were, Nelson and Winnie hand in hand, walking down the road out of the prison.
I connected through to London, joined a South African friend named Tim in Tooting and considered my options.
Elder sister Jane was sailing at the time, and she had made noises that I might join the yacht in Gibraltar in the near future.
I didn’t have a return ticket to South Africa.
I could look for a job, being British by birth.
Why not return directly to South Africa now that this “Tata” was free and dedicate myself to Life in the New Apartheid Free South Africa?