Over my years in London, I’ve met many South African people (and even dated one) and ninety percent of them would rave above their country (the other ten percent were really relieved to be out of there!). In particular, Cape Town has been portrayed to me as the best place on the planet (Hi Tina!) and so I was particularly interested to see the place with my own eyes.

Mega-unfortunately, my first impressions here are anything other than good. Even before we crossed the border into the country, a really hard-nosed native gave an enormously unacceptable display of racial prejudice which I won’t write about here as I won’t give a person like that any lineage on my blog. Soon after crossing the border, it started to rain. And rain it did, for the remainder of the journey. Squiffy’s face fell. Our taxi driver shouted at us for the total duration of the ten minute transfer to our backpackers accommodation and handed over the shouting duties to the receptionist who continued until we could escape to have a cold shower in our cold room.

So far, I feel really let-down by the hype. We are not amused.