Sheryl Kruger, Somerset West
I found myself in a position that required me to go to the magistrate’s court, which has the same feel as someone politely asking me to sit on a cactus.
The reason for this letter is not to talk about succulents, but rather about the state of the old magistrate building which I was told should be in the line-up for some TLC but with no fixed date to speak of.
I don’t know who seemed more worn out and desperate, the derelict building with gaping wounds and peeling paint, or the frazzled lot sitting in the queue of which I was part of, and to which end I feel compelled to write about.
How does this legal building represent a place which will aid me in my quest to get my ex-husband to fulfill his role of paying maintenance, when the very hand that has to enforce it is sitting in a building which is crying out for exactly that – maintenance?
