Bronstein looked up mournfully. "But Gramsci was so looking forward to the trip," he protested.
"Me too," admitted the Cow. "The home of some fine Renaissance art, some interesting architecture, some important music and, of course, fast cars. Plus an opportunity to visit the source of the home language of Gaudeamus!"
"The song that caused all the trouble!" sighed Bronstein. "Haven't you had enough of trouble?"
The Cow paused. It had been a rather trying time. The consulate in Manchester refusing to assist a poxy foreigner whose temporary residence on the soggy island was sanctioned by a stamp in the passport rather than An Offical Visa; the consulate in Cape Town being helpful up to the point of the arrival of the precious application parcel, and then refusing to accept it despite it conforming to spec in every possible way; the complete lack of communication from either the courier company or the consulate as to what the reason behind the "exception" might be; the run-around trying to secure the return of the parcel, given that the time window for the visa application to allow the trip had now elapsed; the high levels of stress and suffering generated on all those around, with the cloud ofuncertainty hovering for so long before finally breaking out into a dark, angry downpour.
"At least it was only a downpour, and not the storms that pounded Cape Town," shurugged the Cow.
"Or the tremors still to be felt," added Bronstein.
The Cow looked up, perplexed. "What tremors?"
"The rumblings stirred up by the coronation," Bronstein clarified.
"Hmm," mused the Cow. "You mean the bit where the New-Ruler-Appointed-On-A-Transformation-Ticket cast despair among the Designated Groups by publicly rebuking a black NRF Chair for daring to Speak The Truth To Power? Or the bit where he angered the anal by using the term 'intellectually irresponsible' instead of the more contextually appropriate 'politically irresponsible'? Or the bit where those located outside of Toad Hall were essentially put in their place and told that 'privileged information' was the remit only of Isengard?"
Bronstein chuckled. "Quite possibly all of the above," he twinkled. "I guess the fall-out remains to be seen!"
The Cow sighed. "Wouldn't it be nice," she suggested, "if instead of renaming a Senate Room from which he was barred, they'd chosen to honour Prof Mafeje by commemorating that very act of dissent that blocked his gaining access forever to the Senate Room?"
"Yes!" agreed Bronstein. "Just think how inspired generations of students to come - from marginalised groups past, present and future - would be to plunge into the shiny, new, Archie Mafeje swimming pool!"