That’s me back in 2005. At this point in life, I had just recently discovered the benefits of making my own money, and I was yet to learn one of the hardest lessons in life. Beer.
It’s very easy when you’re out and about, living on your own (family wise) in the great big world, to get influenced by the silliest things that are a good jol while they last, but a madder babalas the next day! Yet for some F’d up reason or another, one goes back the very next weekend to do it all over again.
There are places on this planet that make such an existence very much inevitable. One such place is where I’ve been living since late 2005.
On a planet called Earth, on a continent formally known as Africa, within the borders of a country more famously known as South Africa (The Republic of), there is a province named after the people who originate from there (or is it the other way round?) either way, Kwa-Zulu Natal is the name, there is where you shall find a city called Durban. Within this vast city, there is a place called named after Africa's first winner of the Nobel Prize. The place, Albert Park, therein is a street named after a Saint. St Andrews Street.
In this planet, on that continent, within that country, in that province, stashed ever so romantically on that street in that city is, Gloucester Hotel.
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