THE COLL SOCIAL ANIMAL

Nothing can prepare one for the chaotic and exhausting world of the Coll Social Animal.

It was very soon after arriving here that I was being invited to spontaneous 'open-house' parties. There is nothing unusual in this perhaps, but what really took me by surprise was the cross- section of Coll inhabitants that attend. Since my inaugural night out, I don't think that I've been to a party where at least two generations of a family weren't dancing the night away in a downstairs living room, whilst a third was tucked up in an upstairs room, oblivious to the euphoria below. Coll must be one of the few places where not only is age-ism an unrecognised phenomenon, but an alien one too.

Bottles of whisky lead fleeting but magnificently appreciated lives, unlike their Southern mainland counterparts, which are left for long years in dark festering corners, to be grudgingly offered in minutely measured quantities on a rare moment of good fortune or festive spirit.

It is hard to put into words the unparalleled sense of optimism that is present in the ceremonial opening of each new bottle. The practise is simple enough, and each arrival is treated to the same glorious ritual greeting. Once removed, the cap is tossed to the four corners of the room (??) and the contents befriended with the same warmth and openness bestowed upon all welcomed visitors. In the wee small hours of the morning, conversations usually intensify and deep discussions ensue. It is a particularly entrancing experience, to share company beneath a star canopied sky, with water lapping around you, whilst the world is put to rights amidst a warm, mixed and friendly group. I'd love to be able to divulge how these spontaneous and mystical evenings finally draw to a close. It's a little unfortunate that I've never kept awake long enough to find out.

In the much treasured words of Balloo the Bear: 'Man, what a swinging party.'

Rolihlahla.