A much needed lie in, all inclusive breakfast then a failed attempt to repair my GPS charging lead. Instead I clean Livingstone in preparation for his proud entry in to Cape Town in a few days’ time.

Feeling very depressed at the moment, I don’t want to go home, I want to live on the road. I like it here, there’s nothing except for ploughed fields growing failed crops as far as the eye can see.  I ask the proprietor for suggestions on what to do, he says in his South African accent “Here, there is nothing for miles around”, and just the way I like it, so relax by the pool.

The rump steak here is the best ever and the much needed mashed vegetables.

In the bar I speak with two chaps from Johannesburg. They’re friendly people but I’m surprised at their attitude towards the blacks. The manual workers around the campsite are all blacks of who daren’t make eye contact or seem too afraid to speak with me, again indicating the slow change since the apartheid. The bar enders and I discuss the change since the black parliament came to power back in 1994, a big mistake considering what I have witnessed travelling through the poverty stricken countries over the last few weeks. We agree to disagree and they warn of danger ahead when travelling through certain suburbs. The chaps also warn of the snake infested camp as only yesterday, two Puff Adders were killed in the bar area. They suggested carrying a snake kit which I had never considered but will be looking out for one long the way.

The two chaps casually talk about the numerous guns they own including the two strapped to their ankles. Its legal in South Africa to carry a gun providing you own a licence. The two chaps said their collection had doubled since the black parliament in fear of any upheavals.

The bar attendant ignored our conversation but cowers every time he passes us three white men. In their defence, the white men talk freely and welcomingly to other black in the bar which, at one time would not have been allowed access.