One of the most wonderful things I’ve done in London is meet up with an old friend, June, who I last saw 40 years ago. Back then, we both set out on a converted dustcart to drive through Africa on what was set to be the adventure of a lifetime. It certainly was that, but it did have a few dark turns when we frequently ran out of water, food, money and the right paperwork. Many of us also fell ill — one man was dropped off in hospital in Zaire, never to be seen again — for others it was malaria, dysentery, and I caught hepatitis. In the end, the truck limped into Kenya and we all disbanded well before our final destination of South Africa.
But it did instill in me an abiding love of travel, a determination to put up with any manner of discomfort and an ever-present thrill of the unknown. And, of course, I made some great friends, among them June.
So great to catch up on the years that have passed since, and that incredible trip with all its memories, good, bad and bizarre.
