Bro­ker’s wife

RISKSA Magazine - - Contents -

Dear lu­velies

It’s been such a long time since we have been able to share a sneaky word or two! I must say that it is great to be back work­ing with the lovely team at RiskSA. Since we last spoke, Ric­cardo (such an Ital­ian stal­lion) and Michael (the very im­por­tant man­ag­ing direc­tor) have got­ten mar­ried – not to each other of course (although, when it took Michael nearly 5 years to pro­pose to his bride Michelle, I did begin to won­der). Ru­mours of me hav­ing gone to ground af­ter be­ing un­der the sur­geon’s knife are, of course, hugely ex­ag­ger­ated. For a start, with near per­fect looks such as mine, surgery is not a ne­ces­sity. And, hav­ing a lit­tle laser peel done hardly qual­i­fies as ‘surgery’. If you don’t be­lieve me, just ask the re­cep­tion­ist at Dr Botox from the Mel­rose Aes­thetics Clinic. In chat­ting to her, she may also share with you how the two-forone spe­cial worked for the MD of a cer­tain med­i­cal aid fund, who is a monthly vis­i­tor. My ab­sence was, in fact, as a re­sult of Jonathan Dixon from the FSB. A de­li­cious, sweet boy, but it wasn’t his gym-fit body that kept me busy but rather his di­rec­tives and mis­sives and RDRs, KIs and good­ness-knows what else. My dar­ling hus­band was so busy that he in­sisted I come to work at the bro­ker­age. Have you ever… me Work­ing?! Well, thank­fully, that has now come to an end. He signed many of the in­hab­i­tants in Steyn City so he has a new ad­min team and I get to be back do­ing what I do best – at­tend­ing func­tions by his side, meet­ing all of you and shar­ing some of your fab­u­lous sto­ries. Over the next year or so I prom­ise to keep you in­formed about fash­ion, who is do­ing what to whom (in the board­room of course, not the bed­room – mind you, for some, that is the same thing) and gen­er­ally en­sur­ing that we don’t for­get the spice that makes up the in­ter­est­ing in­sur­ance in­dus­try in South Africa. To kick off the year, a few tips for the ladies in the in­dus­try: wear­ing white, tight-fight­ing dresses to black-tie func­tions are gen­er­ally not a good idea. And, af­ter the ex­cesses of the fes­tive sea­son, it re­ally, re­ally is not a good idea. You can, how­ever, en­cour­age your men to wear tight num­bers (red, pur­ple, yel­low – it doesn’t mat­ter) when they run (well, one or two run, most just walk and have fun) at the an­nual DARE­devil Run on 30 Jan­uary. In fact, the tighter, the bet­ter as I like to check out what tal­ent lies be­neath. Size, of course, doesn’t mat­ter, but it al­ways helps to know whether you are work­ing with a gherkin or a cu­cum­ber in the salad, as it were. For the men, a tip on size as well. At the end of Jan­uary my hus­band (and most of his brandy-drink­ing, Sarel van der Merwe wannabe bud­dies) will be driv­ing their cars at the Zwartkops Race­track. And, as any clever woman knows, a man’s car is of­ten in di­rect pro­por­tion to his abil­i­ties. Here’s to the start of what is sure to be an in­ter­est­ing year ahead! Have a lovely month and see you at the in­dus­try func­tions. Please come say hello.

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