By John Fullerton It’s a sunny Saturday at Newlands rugby ground in Cape Town. We’re back in the 1960s. Squatting on my heels behind the touch line along with my schoolfellows, I’m watching the all-white Springboks play the British Lions. Every time the ‘boks score,...
By John Fullerton Perhaps you are not old enough to have begun your writing career with a typewriter. I certainly am. Aged 19, I joined my local paper as a trainee – a cub reporter – and sat facing a large, heavy-duty manual machine with keys that made...
