Out of Africa

My final couple of years at school were tricky first with a badly broken leg, and then a severe injury to a shoulder and arm, that meant delaying A levels by a whole year.

So, once finished, I took myself off to deepest Africa to visit some long lost relatives.
It was nothing like the Gap Year of today.

However we went on safari, in a pick up truck and saw wonderful wildlife, the like of which will probably never be seen again. We drove thousands of miles in an ancient Mercedes to the coast, dealing with punctures and sliding off the dirt roads in wet conditions on a regular basis.


This morning, while sorting out stuff, resulting from all the upheaval at home, I came across a bundle of airmail letters and this photo, which I haven't clapped eyes on for a very long time.

There were a group of youngsters, some home for the summer from UK boarding schools, and some who lived in Deepest Africa all the time. We all hung out together, doing what teenagers the world over do.
Many lazy days were spent with H and the others by the pool at 'The Club' - a colonial relic where there was still a men's bar and a legendary story of a wife marching in and dragging her husband out after he'd been there for 3 days & nights.
In some respects it was all very 'Out of Africa'

Then, with the summer over I came back to Blighty and got a job in London.
We corresponded for a long time, he wrote the most beautiful letters, reams and reams of hand written daily news, hopes and dreams for the future, and memories of that long, long summer.
There was a slow and gentle rhythm to the exchange of letters. The anticipation of an airmail letter dropping through the letter box, for me, and for him, the long drive into town once a week to pick up the mail from the post office.
I remember clutching each unopened letter for a while. Waiting for the right moment to open it carefully and savour the contents in private. Re-reading the latest one every night and sleeping with it under my pillow.

Looking at the post marks today, I guess I would write and post a letter, it would take a week to reach him, he would then write a letter back to take into town the following week and it would reach me a week later.

Eventually we lost touch, I think it was probably me who moved on first, when I moved to Devon and then to college, life was happening there and then, and I couldn't wait.

Oh, how correspondence has changed, and not all for the better. Modern technology does of course have its advantages and it is very much easier now to find people from the past.....

Isn't it ????

But it's bonfire night, Guy Fawkes night, firework night, and I am excited at the prospect of some huge ooohs and aaaahhhs!
Catch up with you all tomorrow when there could, just possibly be another installment....
- have fun!