Post-Plett Rage

For the last few days we have had a semi-comatose post-Plett-Rager lying around on her bed or on the couch in front of the TV. In fact, anywhere that she could drape her body and settle down to catch 40 winks. In between she has been coughing and sputtering as a result of the “Plett Plague” that has afflicted a number of them. The “real” food I made on Sunday, was also very much appreciated as an alternative to the “Provitas-and-cheese” diet she has been on.

But in spite of the after-effects, she has had so much fun. It seems like they slept and partied, slept and partied to the sounds of Goldfish, Jack Parow and many more. The “Rage” was well-organised; there was ample security, as well as taxis and concerned community members looking out for the thousands of post-matrics who descended onto the beaches and surrounds of Plettenberg Bay.

I admit to being more worried about Plett-Rage than about sending her off to build water tanks in the hills of northern Thailand. But this has been as much of a rite of passage - letting her hair down, partying up a storm with her friends and saying goodbye to school books, uniforms and bells. I am glad that she is safe. I had to smile quietly when I read her sms towards the end of last week - "feeling green from eating junk, not enough sleep and too much partying". That was something she had to find out for herself!