I must phone Telkom; we need more telephone boxes in Jhb. The reason? Inside every trader there's a shipping manager bursting to get out and, like Superman, they need somewhere to change. Trading is a dull tedious job which attracts boring people and I can therefore understand their desire to attempt to interfere in matters above their station, but it will not do. A little learning is a dangerous thing, and my Emergency Powers (Suppression of Traders) Act is in the final stages of completion and will be submitted to Parliament in due course. My lot will be amongst the first sent to the camps.
TUESDAY
I pop in to Afromar, and the managing director escorts me to a nearby restaurant. Over a lunch he almost pays for, Dave Tucker bemoans the current state of the market. I pay scant attention as Tucker is an habitual complainer, although sometimes with good reason.
He has had to steer the company through some rough waters in the last few years and I agree with him when he says that Nigel Sims has been a tower of strength in difficult times. Tucker must not underestimate his own role, however; by his own admission a better broker than manager, he reminds me of a tea bag. The hotter the water he's dropped into, the stronger he becomes....
WEDNESDAY
Maersk hold their first corporate golf day at Bryanston, and my spies tell me that the staff take umbrage to a comment I made last week accusing them of a lack of festive spirit. As Vikings, they say, some of their best parties included a good dose of rape and pillage, and it must be the Swedes with whom I was getting confused. Possibly. Whilst it is true that a conversation with a Swede is as exciting as watching a fridge defrost, I cast my mind back to the Maersk cocktail party held at the Inanda Club a few weeks ago. In the absence of Gert Anderson, the welcoming speech was given sy someone called Yawn. I rest my case...
Thursday
A fairly busy morning, then off to Transcargo at lunchtime for a pizza and a mineral water. Nolene Lossau, the doyenne of the industry, holds 'open house' every so often and it's always a pleasure to mix with such a disparate crowd and chew the fat. All business is done across a table, but in shipping it's done across a lunch table and the information shared and knowledge gained at these sort of informal gatherings is well worth the time out of the office, if not the extra inches on the waistline. I leave before becoming too tired and emotional.
FRIDAY
I decide on a weekend in the Cape, and use a visit to Saldanha Bay as the excuse. It's a while since I've been to that part of the world, and the changes are immediately apparent. Most noticeable is the Rennies JV, operating as Saldanha Logistics. It's run by my old friend Preggy Moodley who shows me around his new operation with justifiable pride.
Saldanha Steel and Duferco have
obviously brought a lot of life to the area. Steel, granite and bagged cargo adorn the berths and there is a general air of
prosperity. Look to your laurels, Durban.
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