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Plague diary — week 12. Journalism — even when lawyers’ letters are as frequent as speeding tickets — is an OK gig. After more than 30 years, I still love what I do, and that’s helpful getting my aching bones out of bed in winter.Of course, I might have veered into a vocation with a more entrepreneurial bent (and retired at 35), were it not for an unfortunate incident at Rhodes University in the mid-1980s. I am reminded of this defining incident because of persistent murmurings around the banning of alcohol sales again.I was a poor student (academically speaking as well). My mother, earning a bank clerk’s salary, constantly reminded me of the sacrifices required to fund three years of studying.And then I unceremoniously flunked first year. So I was on a really short chain in my second first year. I had also run out of ways of conning my mother — like pleading for money to buy an academic gown every term.In desperation I joined a dastardly plot to buy wine at a discount at the studen...

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