You don’t really think about your bank, do you? I imagine an edifice somewhere downtown that emits a faint whir, a ticking and beeping as it tots up the interest I owe it. People may or may not be involved; I don’t care one way or the other.

In these dogged dog-eat-dog days, it’s probably for the good that our banks stay invisible. It’s when they come knocking that we have to worry. 

Certain emotions pass through a Nedbank guest when the annual Sun City million-dollar golf jamboree comes to town. Queue for the bus, get a free shirt, get topped up with free dop and a buffet lunch, get bussed back slightly pleased with ourselves for being among the chosen. Most of us had spent the hours in a tent, watching TV, all in our new green shirts...