Crossing from Mozambique to Swaziland is textbook, an efficient but dull sequence of good roads, empty border checkpoints, then even better roads. Though I'm dropped at Manzini and have to take another minibus to reach Mbabane, Swaziland's capital, it's barely midday when I arrive. Mbabane is like being back in England, and I can't imagine just how it ended up being twinned with Fort Worth in Texas. It's cold, dull and misty, and there is a shop just like WH Smith's from where I purchase a copy of the Economist, and could even have had Q if I was so inclined. King Pie sells me a couple of steak and kidney pies and the sounds of English are everywhere. I'm cautious about this sudden familiarity - it feels uncomfortably as though I've gone forward in time
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