Life begins at 56 – at least, that is the somewhat accidental and arbitrary premise of this blog. Or, more truthfully (what is truth, anyway? You tell me!  – I know what lies are, I think, but truth, in this complicated and richly varied world of ours, in this strange country of the heart, is a far more ambiguous and unknowable thing) it is the convenient excuse for what I was going to write anyway, dressed up like any self-respecting person in clothes appropriate to the occasion.

Given this premise, however, you will not be surprised – indeed, you may expect – that I will return, from time to time, to the theme of a new lease. As, indeed, I do on this occasion. Except that on this occasion, it is what it is – the new lease I bring to your notice is not the renewal of the ancient life force, much less the discovery of the secret of eternal youth: it is a lease, folks, just a lease. A lease signed on a townhouse in Hyde Park (Johannesburg) – two stories, two-and-a-half bathrooms, three bedrooms, one of which will be our new office: we move, Rob and I, into the first home we have had that is ‘ours,’ rather than ‘hers’ or ‘mine’, on 1 October.

Now isn’t that a new lease, and one worth writing about?

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