JEREMY THOMAS: Ode to PE, PE’s odour and lessons owing to market timing

You always know you are close to Port Elizabeth by the pong. When you cross the Swartkops River from the north, the offshore gale carries a whiff of mud and bad prawn. Enjoy it, because very soon the reek of organic rot will be overtaken by a peculiar eye-watering stench that could only come from the Algorax factory.  

In the mid-1980s, I did not begrudge Algorax its vile mark on the world. It was a client, an integral part of the city, and I was a citizen.