If my record-keeping is correct, I attended my 20th Remgro/Rembrandt AGM last week. The first time I headed out for one of these auspicious occasions was in the early 1990s as a reporter for the old Argus newspaper. I was rather edgy about the assignment, as I had to try to file copy for the last afternoon edition. My passenger, the late, great Issy Goldberg, an incomparable shareholder activist, was even more jittery.

We were running horribly late coming into Somerset West, and my VW Beetle was backfiring with alarming regularity. Issy was straining against the seat belt, and kneading his black beret nervously. Suddenly he winced, slumped back in the seat and then popped a couple of interesting-looking pills. When I asked him to share, he shook his fist at me and muttered something threatening. We were great friends. ..

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