Would I spy again?

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,...

Still learning how to write

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...

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