Losing my voice

For a few hours my voice was gone. The night had been cold, the conversation boisterous and shouty, and when I got home the only sound I could make was that of a bagpipe being stood on by an asthmatic warthog. It came back soon enough but it made me think about voice, the uniqueContinue reading “Losing my voice”

No smoke without Koeberg

Last week I saw Cape Town die. A vast column of smoke was rising on the other side of the bay, an impossibly high V climbing into the sky. Whatever lay at the point of that V was not merely burning, it was being incinerated. This was a conflagration, a holocaust. And then the realityContinue reading “No smoke without Koeberg”