My Dad calls himself a nomad. I think if he could change his name to nomad without looking like an idiot he would. The nomadic element of my Dads personality is the reason why at five years old me, my mum and sister were bundled into Landrover, equipped with stove and bat (for the snakes), and driven to South Africa. (When I say bundled I don’t mean kidnapped, just perhaps lightly forced.) We would spend months there just driving around, camping and staying in ‘hotels’ (code word for a shed with no toilet.)
Being so young I never appreciated what I was seeing but now I get vivid (and sometimes not so vivid) memories from my time spent in Southern Africa and here they are.
(N.B. Check out a photographer called Peter Beard. He does huge photographs of African animals then pours blood over them and rolls tyres’ covered in paint on them, the result is amazing.)
No comments:
Post a Comment