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"My blood has thinned" This was Angela's conclusion as to why we were shivering at Heathrow airport when we returned to the UK in early December. The fact that we had gone from 42C in the Kalahari to -2C in London didn't help us feel any warmer!
We'd returned to the UK after the death of Angela's father, John. The funeral, a private family gathering, took place on 17 December at Ticehurst Church, parts of which date back to the 12th Century.
A First World War memorial plaque to the left of the pulpit caught my eye during the service. Sixty-two men from this small Sussex village died in that war, and judging by the surnames three mothers had suffered the unimaginable loss of three sons each.
Until it happens it is difficult to imagine how much administration a bereavement entails. However, Jo seems to have everything under control, coping well under the sad circumstances in what is obviously a very emotional time for her.
The contrast between this year and Christmas 2007 could not be starker. In 2007 we were alone in the Namib desert, this year we were fighting in the aisles of the fruit and veg section of Sainsburys, being rugby tackled by fellow customers anxious to get to the brussel sprouts before they ran out.
Napoleon claimed that the British were a nation of shopkeepers, he was wrong; we are a nation of shoppers. How else can you explain why people, clearly suffering withdrawals symptoms after having to socialise with their families for all of 8 hours on Christmas Day, get up at 2am the next two mornings to queue for the Sales. Pity the staff though, some retailers, clearly caught up in the festive spirit, decided to open at 5am!
In the meantime the nation is apparently seething with "outrage" and "disgust". Those of you outside the UK may be forgiven for thinking our media used these words in relation to the death of more British soldiers in Afghanistan or perhaps events in Africa. You'd be wrong, they were actually referring to the voting problems in the semi-final of the BBC's Strictly Come Dancing, which relegated the world economic crisis and any other real news to the middle pages of even the so-called serious press.
In case you think I've a downer on the UK at the moment, it has been great to get out in the Sussex countryside for long walks in the crisp, clear air of mid winter and I've had a rare chance to enjoy my favourite pint of beer, Timothy Taylor's Landlord, after a walk along the promenade in Hastings with Angela and her Mum.
We are flying back to South Africa tomorrow, to resume our trip in the Kalahari. Before we go in we will treat the Landrover to a new set of shock absorbers before we both lose our fillings on the corrugated roads in the park.
It is just left for us to wish everyone (with the exception of HM Revenue & Customs who fined Angela for not returning a tax return she never received) a very happy and healthy 2009. Please feel free to use the Messageboard to tell me how wonderful I am; even egos like mine need massaging!
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