Later we tour round in a bus and see giraffes running free and then encounter some hippos. The hippos they’re funny things. Big warty heads blister the skin of the water. Bizarre tiny ears that flutter with honey eater wings, as if they could lift the whole carcass up into the sky. Their skin glistening in the sun , dripping a trail of freedom behind them, but not on this trip.

The meerkats are always entertaining. Always one on sentry duty at the top of the mound or a branch, scanning the skies  seeking out danger while the other cats fossick and meander about in random movements. Tiny paws scratch down trying to find a means of escape only to find the concrete floor of the prison they’re in. Heads pop up and drive as one at feeding time. A keeper in army greens reaches into a bucket and throws in assorted bugs beetles and grasshoppers, a whirlwind of feet, ears and noses scamper for a quick bit of take away. We take afternoon tea, a lamington and hot black tea. The lamington’s texture is like fine sandpaper and crumbling drifts of desiccated coconut swirl a blizzard in my mouth while rich strawberry jam sends sonar pings of sweetness to my brain. The sponge dissolves like sugar in hot tea.