Kismet.

January passed in a blur of commercials. There was the Japanese car... the comical bank robbery scenario, the hotdog van in the ghetto, the Russian woman pushing an empty pram, etcetera.

Then there was some kind of instant cappuccino. The packs guy frothing up cup after undrinkable cup... a beach hut, a rooftop, a beautiful architect-designed house hanging off a clifftop overlooking the city - so filthy I spent most of the morning cleaning it. Fans queueing to buy tickets to a concert, the Eurotrash beach bar, a record store... a coltish young couple on silk sheets.

And so on.

3 o'clock wake-up calls and leaving home in the ante meridian light.

Oh TVC: land of momentous minutiae.

I was feeling ever so lacklustre. As luck would have it, we managed to steal a week and hightailed it up the West Coast road.

Bless this old world, not so far away, where time is slow

and life's a snap.

I felt bad for forgetting to bring something special for the francolins, as they have a special place in my heart. (Just look at those feathers arranged like flower petals!)

 Nevertheless, they devoured everything we gave them - carrot, pepper, papaya, nectarine, lettuce, butternut peelings, avocado, tomato.

They will eat from your hand if you're patient.

A tortoise wandered into the yard one morning to drink some water. He submerged himself in the water dish until, worried for him, I set out some watermelon. He attacked it voraciously, eating skin and flesh alike. Eventually, he ambled off, smiling. The mousebirds came next, and the bulbuls. They followed their sticky feast with a bath in the dust. I understand why people become bird watchers. Small feathered comedians...

A puff adder lay peacefully beside the house the entire time. Even so, I wasn't brave enough to approach him. The photograph was taken by a very tall man.

We combed the beaches, we paddled the waters and we walked the marshes. The vegetation is a sweep of colour: pale acid green, coppery red, deep purple and everything inbetween. Tiny pinpricks of lilac flowers. We saw blue swallows playing a game: fly into the wind, hover with wings a-whir, then succumb and let the wind swoop you away. Over and over again.