I finally tired of the grey skies and perpetual dampness of Johannesburg last week and flew off to spend a few days in a secluded luxury cottage by the sea. The weather has been stunning which isn’t particularly good news for the locals in this part of the world who are experiencing their worst drought in decades. But it’s good news for me and as I write this the doors are all open, a gentle breeze blows through the cottage and there is nothing to hear but the sound of waves crashing onto the shore and the cry of the seagulls. And all for R900 a night which has to make this the cheapest coastal rental in the world. Unfortunately my wife has threatened me with things too dreadful to mention if I reveal the location.

There is only one problem here and that is cellphone connectivity. At the top of the hill it’s pretty good but I’m not at the top of the hill. I’m on the seashore and my cellphone is dead. If I move around the cottage I might be lucky enough to get one bar flashing and every so often three bars flash tantalizingly but disappear as soon as I try to use the damn thing. This might make sending the column a little difficult this morning but I’m driving into Plett for lunch at The Plettenberg and I’m hoping the signal will be a bit stronger in this playground of the rich and famous. However while I am at the cottage I remain incommunicado.

Normally this wouldn’t bother me. I am not one of those people who are constantly fiddling with their Blackberries over lunch. I can happily turn my cellphone off on Friday and back on again Monday knowing that no calls of any importance will have been missed. But this time it’s different. You see I’m waiting for a rather important call from President Zuma and I don’t think he is going to appreciate it if he is constantly told that the subscriber he has dialed is unobtainable, please try later.

You all know by now that my distinguished ex colleague and fellow hack, Jon Qwelane, is tipped to be the next ambassador to Uganda. There has been the usual hue and cry about this, particularly from the gay community who seem to think that Jon is homophobic. He did write an article last year saying that you could call him any name except gay and went on to explain why he didn’t think the gay life was the one ordained by the supreme being. That doesn’t make him homophobic though. It merely throws an idea out for discussion in the market place. South Africans are not too good when it comes to debate. As we’ve seen with this column, there are plenty of people out there who don’t think certain people’s views should be aired at all. Which is great news for columnists because if there was nobody out there to irritate then we would all be out of jobs. I agree with the author Kingsley Amis when he says that there is no point in writing unless you’re going to upset someone.

Jon’s homophobia, or complete lack of it, is not really the issue here though. What is more pertinent is that he has been recognized for his support of JZ in the run up to the election and this offer to be our man in Uganda, thus rescuing Qwelane from the pernicious life of a print journalist, is all the thanks he gets. Maybe they’re planning to test him out in Uganda before offering him something more attractive but I think you must agree that it’s a funny sort of way to show gratitude.

You will all know (and many have rudely commented on the matter) that JZ and I had a very cosy 40 minutes together when he dropped his legal action against me after my groveling apology for defaming him. He was kind enough in the follow up press statement (not widely reported by AVUSA newsapers for some reason) to call me one of the most talented journalists in the country and to say South Africa needed more people like me. Then I famously did the April 4th gig just before the election when I publicly endorsed the ANC in front of an influential audience of 3000 at Sandton Convention Centre. I know that tipped the scales and helped him sweep to electoral victory which is why I am pretty certain that someone from Luthuli House is trying to get in contact with me to offer me an ambassadorship somewhere. And my damn cell phone has no signal.

But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. After all, if they’ve given Qwelane Uganda what on earth have they got in store for a poor white boy? I’m almost afraid to turn the cellphone on now just in case there is an SMS alert with the message “JZ here. How’s it hanging dude? Fancy being our man in Haiti”?