Getting older and getting drunk
Back when I was in my 20s, I met a wry old devil “on a train bound for nowhere”. All we had in common was a bottle of 10-Year-Old KWV Brandy and a 28-hour train ride from Cape Town to Pretoria - but it turned out to be an education. I was travelling on a First Class Government Rail Warrant, as was issued to serving officers who were being transferred from one billet to another. I was nearing the end of my National Service and was owed a quick leave home before the final stretch prior to clear-out and demobilisation. The “system” allowed for “travelling time” on both sides and in the Intelligence Corps. we'd had learned to “bend reality” enough to wheedle an extra day’s leeway on either side. Civilians usually avoided compartments with soldiers in them but he swung his nondescript suitcase onto the rack and an seated himself opposite me with a friendly nod. It was only after the second tea trolley came around. I’d exhausted the Cape Town newspapers and dispaired of the c