Maypoles…

CHRIS BENNETT looks back on an interesting week…

A VERY quiet and rather pleasing election this time round was a healthy commentary on the people of the lower South Coast and, indeed, the rest of South Africa.

I voted at Munster, where all is greenery and large marquees, rather like a church fête or a society wedding (society wedding? Munster?).

I spoke to one charming lady at the steps that lead into the clubhouse of the sports centre who wore an official looking badge; she told me the voting had been steady that morning, and when I put my three ballots into the boxes, at about ten, I saw they were almost full.

There is always something slightly strange about polling day. It has should, I would have thought, have a Sunday feel about it; but it doesn’t. It must have something to do with everybody milling about.

By now we know the final results, but at the time of writing this they were clear but not final.

Thursday, the next day, saw me embark (that should be embus; I was not sailing) for the journey to King Shaka International Airport, my first visit.

I had been told that the new airport, opened as you probably know in time for the 2010 association football World Cup, was a little to the north of Durban. The old one had been almost in the city centre.

Now the bus journey from Margate to Durban was a most pleasant experience; it was comfortable, for a bus, and it was a pleasure to drive on an old road with an experienced driver. Hats off to Margate Coaches.

At my age I have no interest in speed, and so the R62/N2 holds little attraction, perhaps beyond the fact that it makes for a comfortable and reasonably quick journey to Durban, should you choose to obey the speed limit. Travelling on the old road is a delight; but back to the bus.

The Durban coach terminus, dispatching magnificent coaches of enormous aspect, intensely glazed and highly polished like spanking new cruise liners to all points of the South African compass, was a bit of a let down. It could do with a coat of paint and a bit of a spit and polish; as we have next to no rail services this terminus is of some importance.

From there to the airport seemed never ending; I had visions of Kosi Bay…

King Shaka International Airport is a wonder to behold; and it is largely empty. At least it was on that Thursday morning; perhaps everybody was celebrating a peaceful and highly successful election, the turnout for which is a huge compliment to the people of this country.

Like all modern airports this one is on an almost cosmic scale. Unfortunately, as a pilot friend pointed out not long ago, there is nowhere from which visitors can see the planes landing and taking off. This is a pity; it deprives children of one of life’s delights.

I presume this is a security measure, given that the airport must have been designed about ten years ago.

Something I found conspicuous by its absence was a travelator, one of those moving footpaths that get passengers and their hand luggage quite quickly from one side of the airport to another. The one in OR Tambo is a godsend.

No doubt, should KwaZulu-Natal ever opt for independence there will be no problem about modern airliners coming into the banana republic.

But what, I wonder, is the future of Margate airport?