Drinking with the kids

The last word on Jo'burg. In the lounge, waiting on the flight. Drinking, annoying Muslim smokers.

Snickered at snippets of conversation from IT types over from me. "We need to take this further up the value chain", one actually uttered. Then another, "If I have penetration I can do anything". At which alcoholic orange juice came out my nose. I was happy.

A family sat down beside me. They were South African but lived on the Isle of Man. I ignored the adults, who looked a bit iffy, and chatted to their kids. I asked them if they still had lager and lime flavoured ice lollies in Douglas. They looked at me funny and shook their heads. I told them that was very disappointing and that, in my youth, they not only had lager and lime flavoured but, also, cider ones. This is quite true or at least that's how I remember it from 1980. Much had obviously changed in the last (nearly) 30 years. And not for the better.

The Mum then asked me what I was doing in Jo'burg. I told her that I was in the platinum business. Then the Dad, Mr Sports Casual with a foppish fringe, asked me where I was from. I told him I was Welsh.

Then they got up to have a fag. The parents that is. Leaving the kids with me. "Am I in charge?", I asked them. "Yes", they told the kids, "Davie is in charge now so be good". They really liked me. I'd told them my name was Davie Bond, a platinum miner from Wales. I hated them.

As soon as they went into the multi-denominational smoking room I asked the kids if they wanted a beer.

"No thanks", said the poor saps as one.

"You sure?", I replied. "I'm in charge now".

"No thanks", they repeated.

That was the end if it.