Could it be, muses Karin Brynard, that the social kiss will soon be extinct?

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In these times of plague and pestilence, it might just come to pass.

There was a time in my life that the very idea of kissing gave me the jitters, filled me with dread, fear and loathing. I’m referring, of course, to those long-gone days of old when kissing was considered the proper, civilised norm among the farming folk on the platteland. You may call it the universal gold standard of boere greeting etiquette.

And no, skat, none of that cheek-pecking nonsense, it was full-throttle mouth-to-mouth. No debate. I remember the family visits of my early childhood mainly by the dread of greeting the ooms and tantes.

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