Most of us recognise this moment.

Something health-related happens.
Not dramatic. Not an emergency.
But enough to knock the wind out of you.

You try to book an appointment.
You wait.
You hear nothing.

And a very familiar thought creeps in:
“This would have been handled differently back home.”

We’ve heard from so many South Africans lately who aren’t angry — just unsettled. The NHS doesn’t shout when it’s under strain. It goes quiet. And if you don’t know how the system works, that quiet can feel uncaring.

So this week isn’t about complaining or analysing what’s broken.

It’s about doing what South Africans do instinctively when things go sideways.

The pawpaw has hit the fan.
Now we make a plan.

Here are the calm, practical ways people actually get help in the UK — without panic, without fighting the system, and without burning yourself out.

If something feels urgent to you but isn’t life-threatening, NHS 111 is often the smartest first move.

You can call or use it online. You’re assessed by trained clinicians who can:

Many Saffas tell us they wish they’d used 111 weeks earlier instead of sitting in GP limbo.

This still surprises people.

Under Pharmacy First, most high-street pharmacies can now assess and treat a growing list of common conditions — no appointment needed.

You walk in. You speak to someone qualified. Often, that’s enough to stop something from snowballing.

It’s one of the NHS’s quiet pressure valves — and it works.

There are legitimate, UK-registered online GP services that can:

They don’t replace the NHS.
They don’t solve everything.

But for many South Africans, they feel familiar: access first, decisions second. Sometimes that’s all your nervous system needs.

The NHS works best when you understand where to enter it.

If you’ve felt foolish, invisible, or like you’re “doing it wrong” — you’re not.
You were never given the manual.

This is us handing you a few of the pages.

We’ve got a few friends who absolutely love Nando’s.

Not in a casual, “let’s grab lunch” way — in a this-is-our-go-to, no-questions-asked way. And at some point recently, Troy and I found ourselves laughing and saying, “Do they actually know where this comes from?”

So we thought we’d share the story.

It started in 1987 with two friends working at an electronics business in Rosettenville, Johannesburg.

Robert Brozin, a South African marketing mind, and Fernando Duarte, a Portuguese-born technical manager, were colleagues — until Fernando took Robert to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Portuguese takeaway called Chickenland.

One bite of flame-grilled peri-peri chicken and everything changed.

They didn’t just love the food — they saw a future.

They bought the restaurant for around R80,000 (about £25,000 at the time), renamed it Nando’s (after Fernando’s son), and quietly lit the fuse on what would become a global brand.

In 1992, they brought it to the UK.
The first Nando’s opened in Ealing Common, inside an old bank building.

And here’s the part people don’t expect: it struggled at first.

It wasn’t until Robby Enthoven shifted the focus from takeaway to relaxed, sit-down dining that things took off — and suddenly, Britain couldn’t get enough.

Back home, Nando’s became more than a restaurant.
It became the court jester of the nation.

They took aim at everyone. Politicians. Dictators. Sacred cows. Their ads were so sharp they were often banned by the SABC within hours.

People still talk about:

They taught us something quietly powerful:
you can be bold, cheeky, and controversial — as long as you’re funny.

And every time someone in the UK casually says,
“Let’s just grab a Nando’s,”there’s a little bit of Rosettenville in that sentence.

Please support our work for less than a small cup of coffee and we’ll keep giving you the very best of our research and advice so you stop paying the “Saffa tax”.

Finding money wins in the UK can feel like a full-time job. But the best ones aren’t about hustling — they’re the built-in safety nets that simply require you to know which lever to pull.

Here are two that catch almost every South African out.

UK law makes your credit card company equally responsible for a purchase if something goes wrong — as long as the item costs between £100 and £30,000.

Here’s the part that surprises people:
you don’t need to pay the full amount on the credit card.

Pay even £1 (or a small deposit) on the card, and the bank becomes liable for the entire purchase.

If the company goes bust, the item never arrives, or it’s faulty, your bank must refund you — even years later.

People use this quietly when:

It effectively turns your credit card into free insurance, just by using it correctly.

If one partner earns less than the personal allowance (£12,570) and the other is a basic-rate taxpayer, you can transfer 10% of that unused allowance to the higher earner.

The part many people miss:
you can backdate the claim for up to four years.

That means if one of you wasn’t working, was working part-time, or took time out when you first moved to the UK, HMRC may owe you a lump-sum refund — often over £1,000 — paid straight into your bank account.

It’s one of those rare moments where paperwork genuinely turns into money.

We have a passion for helping South Africans in the UK. Please help us grow.

There was a Spitfire in South Africa that many of us remember. Restored. Loved. A proper piece of history.

We remember standing there once and thinking:
“Imagine flying in one of those.”

It always felt like one of those ideas you laugh about and move on from. Nice thought. Not for people like us.

And then we discovered something slightly ridiculous.

If you live in the UK, you can actually fly in a real Spitfire.

Not a replica.
Not a simulator.
A working Spitfire — lifting off from old RAF airfields, with that unmistakable engine sound and the countryside sliding past underneath you.

It’s not cheap.
It’s not sensible.

But it is one of those once-in-a-lifetime things you do with friends, talk about for years, and secretly feel very smug about afterwards.

One of those experiences that makes you stop and say:
“Well… at least living here comes with this.”

👉 Have a look (even if it’s just to shake your head in disbelief):
https://www.virginexperiencedays.co.uk/spitfire

(And if the idea thrills you but the price makes your eyes water, there are also far more affordable Spitfire flight simulator options on the same page.)

🗓️ What’s On

A few things we’d actually circle on the calendar

As March rolls in, the UK starts doing that thing it does best — quietly offering moments where you remember why you live here. Not massive “change-your-life” events. Just days and weekends that feel good to be part of.
These are the ones that caught our eye.Two proper March fixtures worth knowing about

10–13 March 2026 | Cheltenham Racecourse, Gloucestershire

Cheltenham has a particular energy to it.

Four days of jump racing, yes — but also tweed coats, packed trains, early-morning fizz, and that feeling that everyone is leaning into the moment a little harder than usual.

Some people are deep into the racing.
Some go for the social side.
Some just love the atmosphere and the excuse for a full day out.

It builds all week and peaks on Gold Cup Friday, when the place feels electric. Even if you’re not trackside, it’s one of those events that spills into pubs and living rooms across the country.

This is the final weekend of the Six Nations — when the table gets settled and the noise level goes up everywhere.

Twickenham, Murrayfield, Cardiff — and every pub nearby — fill fast. Even without a ticket, being in the area is half the experience: packed pavements, jerseys everywhere, strangers swapping predictions.

You don’t need to be a rugby expert. You don’t even need to care deeply who wins. It’s one of those days where the point is simply being somewhere warm, loud, and shared — a good antidote to a long winter.

If you’ve been putting off contacting your GP because it feels like too much effort, there’s a gentler entry point many people don’t realise exists.

In England, most high-street pharmacies can now assess and treat a range of common conditions — without an appointment, and often without waiting. Things like infections, skin issues, and flare-ups that don’t feel “serious enough” to fight for GP time.
It’s not a fix for everything.

But for some weeks, it’s a way in — and that can lower the temperature a little.

From April 2026, measures announced in the Autumn Budget (including changes to energy levies like ECO and RO) are expected to reduce average household energy bills by around £150 a year.

Next week, we’ll continue the series with the things people only learn after a few frustrating years in the system — how to build continuity, when to push gently, and how to stop feeling like you’re starting from scratch every time something comes up.

Use our Friend Finder to find new friends for coffee, walks, families, food, sport, gym buddies, or simply a proper conversation.

Before we go, there’s one detail that clears up a huge amount of confusion — and it catches almost every South African out at first.

The NHS is not one system.

It’s a name shared by four different systems, depending on where you live.

The NHS in England is GP-led and heavily triaged. Your GP is the gatekeeper, and access is managed tightly through systems like NHS 111 and Pharmacy First. It can feel slow and impersonal — but once you understand the entry points, it becomes more navigable.

Scotland’s NHS is more centrally funded and often feels more joined-up. Prescriptions are free, and continuity of care is generally easier to maintain. Experiences tend to feel calmer once you’re inside the system.

Wales also offers free prescriptions, with more local control over services. Access can vary noticeably by region — which is why people’s stories from Wales often sound very different to those from England.

Northern Ireland runs its own structure again, with different pressures and waiting list dynamics. In some ways it sits closer to the Scottish model than the English one — but it has its own quirks too.

This is why one Saffa will tell you the NHS was brilliant —
and another will swear it nearly broke them.

They’re not contradicting each other.
They’re describing different systems under the same name.

If healthcare here has felt colder or harder than expected, it doesn’t mean you’re failing at it. It means you’ve moved from one healthcare culture to another — without being given the rules.

Now you’ve got more of them.

If this edition helped you feel even slightly steadier, that’s the win.

Not everything needs to be fixed in one go.
Sometimes all you need is a way forward — and a sense that you’re not guessing anymore.

That’s what “make a plan” really means.

We’re really glad you’re here.
And we’ll see you next week for Part 3: getting the NHS to be your best friend (or at least a reliable ally).

Troy & Sarah