Haven't been on the road for a while, but here's a trip down memory lane, back to South Africa and 1973.... Birdhaven It all started with the sacks - the sacks in the back of the Land Rover. Watching quietly from behind a half-drawn curtain, we saw our stepfather - in Barbour jacket and shooting boots – emerge from the cabin. Dark glasses hiding owlish features, he dropped to the ground, clamped an unlit cigar to his lower jaw and, an open shotgun hanging over his forearm, strode up the slate garden path and through the half-mast door. “Bring ‘em in boys!”, he said, lurching heavily into an armchair and lighting the half-smoked cigar. Throwing his legs onto a footstool, he swatted two flies, blew his nose violently, and waited for my younger brother to scamper
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