Dung

I decided earlier today that I want to hug Theresa May. She may still be under the mistaken opinion that she can emerge triumphant and pacify all sides of this ridiculous Brexit fiasco, but she's worked bloody hard at a completely thankless impossible task, dealing with a situation that she wouldn't personally have put the country in to begin with. Most of the time she's looked knackered and on the verge of tears, thinly veiled with some awkward humour. The country's real bile should be directly squarely at David Cameron, now counting his shekels in some offshore tax haven. As well as saving some vitriol for anyone who says things like 'Leave means Leave', as these people completely fail to understand the complex nature of an exit like this, as well as the fact that being deeply involved with other European nations over the last decades on issues of security, environment and trade has actually been in our favour. Ho hum.

The dung beetle was spotted moving with this ball at an impressive rate whilst we were at Gorongosa National Park today. The masters students and some of the researchers who were with us for the last two weeks are all based there, at the impressive Chitengo Camp that caters to tourists, scientists and Park staff. Gorongosa is an ambitious endeavour by a wealthy American philanthropist to restore the Gorongosa area's wildlife after devastating poaching. He's invested so much money and leveraged more, and whilst inevitably complicated, it is regarded as a conservation success. Gorongosa warrants a longer stay to explore fully.

A dung photo is an appropriate metaphor for the bodily explosion that took place after dinner.