The Attack of the Principals

Sadly, I have no appropriate pictures to mark this momentous occasion (to account for this I have put a picture of the tasting room so you can see where the following events unfolded). Never has Highlands Road had so many academic minds fluttering around the estate at one time and never before has Justin disappeared so fully. Turns out that a gathering of 30 School Principals is not Justin's kind of party. Too many rulers taps as a child, I would guess.

Luckily, the weather played a perfect host to this gathering of amazing folks. Most of them come from farm schools in the area, small institutions that take it upon themselves to educate all those who would otherwise go untended. Though I do not know the state of all the schools in the district, the farm school at the end of our property is a true testament to the singular dedication of its helmsman. Although only a small, basic building, the principal has painted the walls with bright murals that liven up the otherwise barren plot of land. The children of all the farmhands in our immediate vicinity attend the school, and they are a historically neglected bunch. Poverty has kept these children from school for much of South Africa's recent history, and these schools are the necessary first step towards providing a more universal or at least accessible education.

A truly inspirational group of people, I wish they could have left business behind and stayed for a glass of wine! I wanted to pick their brains for stories, but I guess that will have to wait for another day.

As a closing note: breaking news on the case of the undergarments. They are not yet found. Turns out that the maid did not bring them back to her house and says, rightly, that I never actually handed her the bag. Desperation is slightly mounting, but no panic yet.