Places I sleep

I found myself in Livingstone, Zambia this week, in digs that fringe the Mighty Zambezi. Despite no longer being immune to the Anopheles Mosquito (in vintage Kate Turner, I lost my prophylactics along the way) I slept profoundly, aided by a diaphanous mozzie net and the softest linen.

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I was roused by hunger. Not mine, but this Blue Balled chap’s.

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He was agitating for the plate of fruit the munificent folks of David Livingstone Safari Lodge (http://www.thedavidlivingstone.com/) laid out for me. Praise Jeepers the rooms are not porous to wildlife. I can’t say I would’ve been as stoic as my Uncle’s wife, Bev, who regularly has to shoo baboons from their b&b in Glencairn, Simon’s Town. The bush here is dripping with them.

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And in other news…

Some cities have underwhelming newspaper headlines. Like this one:

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But here at home, on the vast and wild plains of ‘Jobeg’, we look forward to gems like this one, from that bastion of journalistic integrity, the Daily Sun:

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All hail the Daily Sun! Hoorays!

* A vetkoek, my dear international readers (who wudda thunk I’d ever get to say that? all hail the blogosphere!) is kinda like a deep fried ball of dough, that you then stuff with mincemeat, or chilli, or jam, or cheese. It are flippen amazing.