Day twenty-eleventy or something of lockdown and things are getting dire. My clothes have more wrinkles than a packet of Willards. The booze stash is running so low I’m wondering what mix would go best with Kleen Green and hand sanitiser. And SuperSport are threatening to show Invictus on the telly.

I do love sports movies. Most of them are awfully thin on the sport bit, but there is nothing like wallowing in hero stories. Invictus was Hollywood playing silly buggers, though. There’s the moment where the team runs over a bridge at 6am in Woodstock, except that the sun is shining brightly in the depths of a Western Cape winter. Everyone knows dawn is only at 10am in Cape Town in winter...

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