I have never thought of myself as a Safari man. The look reminds me of crusty old men traipsing around in the heat of the day wearing pith helmets and hunting lion. You just know it’s going to end in tears and an obligatory torrent of gin and tonic. I can’t however fault the gin and tonic.
I like to think of myself as adventurous but I am also by no means an adventurer. You wont find me jumping of cliffs all weekend or holidaying in a bilharzia infested swamp. I don’t even own a GoPro net alone a Bear Grylls survival Hatchet!
I thought about the title of traveller but it seemed to lack conviction. I don’t fancy myself a dirty haired, beige linen wearing hipster with a bicycle. It also worried me that if I took the mantel of traveller I would effectively be baring myself from this platform unless I was out there crossing Africa on a pontoon or what ever else the kids are doing these days.
I gave the situation some thought, I took a foot massage and then I drank a bottle of wine. I thought a lot about why I loved to travel and then quiet un-expectantly a strange thought occurred to me. As much as I loved to travel and all the booze fuelled adventures that go with it; it is the act of telling the story that I enjoy even more!
But I’m not a bearded old man with a Leatherman on my belt telling you how to change a tyre. In fact you probably won’t hear a single piece of useful information out of my mouth. Instead you can expect a series of colorful snippets and photos that will put a smile on your face, make you laugh and maybe, just maybe inspire you.