84 hours in.....

03.30 is never an acceptable time to get up. It might not be so bad if you've never been to bed, but I'm getting a bit old for that sort of lark too.

We had booked a taxi with reception the night before. When we came through, there was no sign of it, and not a lot of activity of any sort. On enquiring, it transpired that the booked driver was sick, so he hadn't turned up. And neither had anybody else. This is the kind of thing that drives me utterly, absolutely demented - especially since no one ever gets in the least bit concerned - honestly, I had to restrain myself from resorting to violence! The watchman was finally prevailed upon to go out and look for a couple of taxis (at 4 in the morning?), but, surprise, surprise, within 10 minutes he was back, with the requisite vehicles. Through airport security once again, and onto the last lap.

We land in Mwanza at around 08.00. From leaving home on Thursday lunchtime, it has take us nearly 4 days.

I am so happy to be here, I have missed it so much. Emma's father, who is 95, and his family are so pleased to see us, as we are them. Elsie and Hannah have immediately hit it off with their twin cousins Elvice and Evance, who are a couple of years older.

The men are still sitting under the tree drinking tea while the women get on with it. The squatter settlements still straggle up the hills, in stark contrast to the shiny new high rise buildings springing up all over. The traffic is still craxy, the scenery still stunning. For the moment, I am just happy to be here, in the warm, with a beer, and I don't care how much the dogs bark, or the mosquitos bite, or the churches sing. I feel like I've come home.