Sometimes you just shouldn’t write anything at all!

For the past few weeks we have been staying in Lukasa, a really fabulous Bed and Breakfast/Camp in Lusaka while we wait for our trusty steed, dear old Charlie, to get repaired after his very recent, rather dramatic blow up. No idea what happened (that’s Mark’s domain of course), all I know is that we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere (a couple kilometers outside of North Luangwe National Park), when he gave up the ghost. 16 hours later a very kind couple of gentlemen arrived in their tow truck after driving through the night to fetch us, and took us to the B&B and Charlie to the garage, which is his version of a spa, I guess. 

Fortunately I’ve been able to write Book 8: The Warthogs while we’re waiting, in a fair bit of comfort to be honest - considering some of the places I have tried to write from. Which made me think back on the places I have had to write, the not so comfortable ones, and I think my favourite must be in Malawi, on our way to Tanzania. We’d spent a few fabulous days on Lake Malawi, in some really lovely campgrounds, overlooking that beautiful expanse of water. We were surrounded by trees and birds and bugs and I’m pretty sure a few mischievous monkeys, in perfect winter weather. 

We had enjoyed so many excellent meals of freshly caught fish (no, not by us - neither of us can fish), a few fabulous sundowners on the ‘beach’ and met some absolutely wonderful people. But after a week or so, we were on the road again, towards Tanzania and another whole slew of adventures. I had started my 2^nd book, The Elephants’, in Malawi, and I was probably about a quarter of the way through. A few hours on the road and I happened to get some great ideas – this always happens – either when I’m walking or when I’m driving. We haven’t been able to walk too often in Africa, considering we are mostly in National Parks and a nice, relaxed walk could end up being a not so relaxed frantic sprint from a herd of territorial elephants or a pride of bored lions. 

I grabbed my laptop from the back, went back to my seat in front, fired it up, and tried desperately to get the ideas on paper before I lost them. Well. Let me just say I may as well have tried to write on a rollercoaster.  The word ‘road’ is aspirational, I believe. There are potholes, with a few specks of road here and there. Literally, I was writing in a rollercoaster. Within 5 minutes I had 4 squiggles and an undeniable urge to throw up. I really, really loathe being nauseous, so the laptop was closed, the window was opened, and the ideas were all gone. I’m not sure I ever got the same ones back actually, but maybe they weren’t that good in the first place. 

And in case you think I’m just a great big baby with a weak stomach, here are a couple of pics!