In the Podiatrist’s Dental Chair
For more than a decade I paid Doctor Carey to work on my teeth whenever one or more of them caused me pain in the form of toothache.
All Posts
The Urinal at Liliesleaf Farm
We arrived in Joburg on Friday 17 May 2024, and returned to Pearly Beach on Monday the 27th of the same month and year, which makes the trip an 11-day odyssey.
One Shot: Reflections on Life's Choices
In my early twenties I went on a mission to take a drink in every bar in Cape Town.
To Hell with Future Generations
We do not inherit the Earth; we borrow it from future generations.
How to Move a Deceased Relative's Possessions...
The relative who died was my wife's youngest of two sisters.
There Is F*ck-All Wrong With My Heart
Two weeks after the Cardiac Ablation, which was supposed to correct my Atrial Flutter, I experienced a mild attack, and then, about ten days later, a more serious episode that lasted for over two hours.
Somebody Is Trying to Kill Me
This latest episode has confirmed my suspicion that I am on the way out. It could still take some years to get there, but I have the impression that the journey is now well under way.
The Treatment
My deteriorating eyesight forced me to give up driving twenty years ago. This has made me dependent on my wife and, to a lesser extent, my daughter, should I ever need to leave Pearly Beach, and that is why I could not travel back and forth to cancer...
World Toilet Day
When it was brought to my attention that November 19, my birthday, has been designated by the United Nations as World Toilet Day, I was mildly offended and thought that they had a bloody cheeck choosing that particular date.
How Not to Pour a Cup of Tea
Of course, it is worse when I am acutely anxious or fraught with existentialist depression like the other day when I was at home in my filthy little chamber at the Olympia Residentia.
Steve’s Pub and Grill
The Story. A public figure well known for his contemptuous attitude towards black people - let's call him Steve - is abducted and taken deep into a sprawling squatter camp.
Minds-I-Book
I finished writing The Life of Henry Fuckit almost 20 years ago. Two publishers rejected the manuscript, and I was left feeling humiliated and seriously wounded.