January 1. Dear Diary, it’s me again – Selwyn! Selwyn Brown. I know you were disappointed last year when my daily diary lasted only until January 17th.
This year I have resolved to write it every night, like Samuel Peeps, whatever his name was. No more scribbling “nothing happened today” because I know “every day is a precious gift”, as Shakespeare said, or was it Bles Bridges?
The advert in The Star read: “The first six lucky callers to get through to Stuart Hess today from 10am on 011 633 2829 can collect their tickets to watch Brian Lara’s calypso cricketers at The Star’s offices at 47 Sauer Street, Johannesburg.”
This was 10 years ago and a reader recalled it recently while watching South Africa playing Pakistan.
As this is International Give Poor Newspaper Columnists a Break Day – fully recognised by Unep, Uncted, FAO, Sars and the SPCA – I am allowed to leave this column to readers while I stay home and cover matchboxes with pretty bits of cloth for Christmas presents.
So, please welcome the famous medico, Dr Hugh Cobb of Rosebank who, having read my recent column on Jewish humour, has something to add:
I wrote recently how television comedies tend to make us males look dof. A subsequent e-mail from Audrey Antrobus in Rustenburg hasn’t exactly restored my confidence.
Audrey, a very learned lady, told me of an evening class at Stanford University in the US where Stanford’s head of psychiatry said that one of the best things a man could do for his health was to marry a woman – but one of the best things a woman could do for her health, was to nurture her relationships with her girl friends.