Image: Close by Tom Svensson
When Carstairs suggested a safari in Africa it sounded a bonzer idea.
Though I should have known better for Carstairs wasn’t much of a planner.
Things went wrong three nights into the safari. We camped by a river, which Carstairs insisted was safe despite the warnings of Hippos.
In the early hours finding a massive hippo muzzling around the camp was not my idea of safe and so a hasty departure was in order.
The next night we camped inland and in an area we were told was big cat country. Carstairs was excited about the possibility of seeing one or two of the big cats up close. His version of close and mine were radically different as the night revealed.
As we settled to sleep, the cats could be heard around the camp, growling, no doubt discussing which of us was the more succulent.
Sleep was difficult and when I rose for a toilet stop, I opened my tent to find myself nose to nose with a rather large leopard, or it may have been a cheetah or a lion with freckles either way it was freaking big and solved all my toilet issues that night.