Fred Khumalo Columnist

When the cat’s away, the mice will play, Bob Marley once sang. Having realised that Mrs K, the feline boss of the Khumalo household, was away, two resident rodents — my son Fred jnr and I — decided to go out and play. Because these opportunities are so rare, I decided that dinner should be an elaborate affair. We ended up at The Marabi Club. Very upmarket (perhaps too upmarket for two rodents who have not benefited from the Steinhoff slush fund). We sat at the bar, to cleanse our palates. Junior, adventurous hipster that he is, decided to try a craft beer, Jack Black Butcher Block. I settled for my usual Amstel, after which we moved to the dining area. We soon got so absorbed in the band, with my good friend Sydney Mnisi leading the charge on tenor sax, that we did not pay much attention to the prices on the menu. We just ordered. The fried quail with kimchi slaw was a mouthwateringly appropriate starter. Then came the dumplings with a forgettable dip. Having consumed a helping of t...

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