In certain support groups I’ve attended over the years, one of the overwhelming precepts has been thus: in order for one to find true serenity, attain genuine inner peace and to live free from resentments, deceit and the sickness of secrets that often lurk on life’s underbelly, it is first necessary to clean house. To ensure one’s own slate is wiped clean – om jou stoep skoon – to keep your side of the street free of debris. One must also make amends to those one has harmed. This is crucial. Only then can one begin to see the promise of a clearer, detritus-free horizon. But it’s a choice, you either do it. Or you don’t. This book, is not that. At all. This book is my truth.
There are, of course, so many people to thank for accompanying me (and Karoline) on our journey from this book’s inception to its end, not just in the writing, but in the real life, times, places and spaces in my life too. Many, I feel deserve nothing less than to be recognised with a parade of enormous, bronzed effigies drawn along Las Vegas Strip by cantering Lippizaner Stallions to a rousing 1973 post-Cabaret recording of Minnelli’s ‘If my friends could see me now!’ But alas, it was a heart-breaking moment when my publisher Mel, told me there were to be ‘no statues, no stallions and no fucking Minnelli!’ and instead three days before going to print, demanded via WhatsApp, my long overdue acknowledgements: ‘When are you sending the fucking acknowledgements? We need the fucking acknowledgements NOW!’ And so, here you go Mel and I’m sorry!
To my wonderful, eccentric one-of-a-kind Mum, I love you, I THANK you, and I hope I make you proud. To Ben, my oldest friend, ditto, and promise me you’ll live forever (or at least until I die). To my siblings whether by blood, paper, water or mishap; Adam, Alex, Brett and my Georgia – for the love and happiness you have gifted me, I hope I have at least one gifted the same back to you. To Debra, thank you for the jigsaw pieces. To Ken I truly appreciated that meeting.
Thanks to those who love me in spite of the crazy: The Dame Emma Scott, Shaun Blumberg, Lula B-W, Aoibhlinn Hester-Wynne, Bean and, of course, Susan and Kelly.
To my boss, Tessa V-S for her unyielding support and flexibility during the writing process, I truly appreciate you. To my wonderful listeners on CapeTalk, thank you for your continued love and support!
To the first man who ever touched me (!) Dr Michael Wright (and wife Heather) – thank you for inviting me to your home in Simonstown some 28 years after delivering me at Sandton Mediclinic. Thanks to my always encouraging law professor, Kim Everett, and my brilliant and inspiring English lecturer, the late Dr Sue Acheson.
To Alex & Dot, thanks for keeping me not dead and the angels who take care of me when I struggle to do it myself. To Shaun Fraser, for a wonderful edit of my manuscript – thank you for my baby’s first short back and sides). To everyone at MFBooksJoburg and Jacana Media – thank you so much for your hard work.
To my Siza for rescuing me and being my best boy.
And so, of course, to my Mel, who I can’t be jealous of any more ‘cause I’m a published author too! But also mainly because you’re one of the good ones and you get me. For some reason you’ve believed in me, and in this book and why it was a story that deserved to be told. You’ve only lost your shit on a couple of occasions. I’ve deserved it far more. We are naughty, fabulous, kitty-cats who roar when rubbed the wrong way. We must take MORE selfies in 2018 and get free stuff. I luff you.
(To the innumerable folk I know l have left out – please put it down to the fact my brain don’t work so good no more, rather than the fact my heart may not be in the right place.)