Being 21 means different things to different people. To some people it means the key to the door. To others like me, it meant something different.
It meant receiving my call-up papers for two years duty having qualified as a South African citizen inadvertently by reason of length of stay, having arrived with my expat British parents at the age of 9.
This rock in my course meant I set sail upon an entirely different path in my life.
I left South Africa five years later having avoided the authorities successfully for that long, and with £600 in my pocket and no credit card nor bank account nor mobile phone (this was 1989) I arrived in London.
The day Nelson Mandela walked out of Victor Verster prison. I stared at the television screen in disbelief.