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April 2007
In 1994 in Melbourne, Australia, my dad sat in peace. He had marched and fought, and now could return to the country he’d left, with pride and without fear. 13 years later, we were packed up and heading across the world from our life in Australia to post-Apartheid South Africa.
The anticipation…
Dear Mum and Dad,
Let me begin this by being profound: this is not an apology. In a bid to try and live my life as unapologetically as possible and in my true narcissistic style, this is an airing of my grievances.
Before you begin to panic, drawing conclusions as to what this could be…
I’ve never been very good at following traditions. I don’t have any annual family meetups, Saturdays are almost never for the boys and I can’t even dedicate myself solely to one coffee shop. So when I travel and I see all these people buying a pin in every country they go to, or religiously tracking…