Question time is usually an opportunity to put a president, a minister or, this case, a mayor on the spot. Or not, as the case may be. Patricia de Lille had it easy in the Cape Town City Council yesterday when a succession of her own party members asked her to tell everyone how splendidly she was doing.
Hippiedom is alive and well in Cape Town, 50 years after flower children first bloomed in San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district and New York’s Greenwich Village.
My wife and I had a little experience of it the other day when we were invited to drop in on a relative’s 36th birthday party. He is a living example of the species, a post-graduate permanent student, mostly barefoot, favours sarongs without undergarments, and is the life-and-soul of gatherings such as AfrikaBurn and Rocking the Daisies.
As someone who barely passed matric maths, and only after taking extra lessons with a very patient retired teacher, I am full of sympathy for all those who discovered that their struggles with the subject were unsuccessful, according to the national results just released.
This is in spite of the questions becoming easier.
There was a message on our answering phone when we arrived at our Hermanus house on Friday afternoon. It was Colin Eglin.
It sounded as if he had had a stroke. “It’s Colin... Colin Eglin,” he stumbled and stuttered. “Just to let you... I’m waiting for you this afternoon...” The rest of the message was too garbled to decipher. But it ended with a “bye-bye”.