It Was The Dream Of My Life, So Far.

2024 Mozambique Cape Buffalo Hunt.

I landed in Johannesburg, South Africa on the evening of August 30th 2024 at 6:00PM to finally live out what had been my lifelong dream. After a smooth 16 hour flight from Newark International Airport – and some thankfully easy customs and rifle claims – I finally made my way to catch up on some sleep at the City Lodge Airport Hotel. 

I was up early the next morning and enjoyed a lovely breakfast with a few fellow hunters that I had met in the hotel restaurant the previous evening. The anticipation was palpable! Next, I was off to the reception area to meet my Outfitter & Professional Hunter – Dempsey Bayly from Bayly Sippel Hunting Safaris. Dempsey and I had enjoyed many conversations over the past year in planning this adventure we were finally about to set out on. He was always informative and patient in helping prepare me for my first African Safari in the great wilds of the Gaza Province of Mozambique which forms part of the Greater Limpopo Transfrontier Park.

Dempsey arrived with a big smile, a warm welcome and a firm handshake. Together we loaded my bags and were off in his Toyota for our first nights stay close to the town of Hoedspruit in a stunning lodge overlooking the Olifants river! Dempsey has a professional relationship and friendship with the owner of the camp, Wayne Wagner. Wayne is also the owner, along with Oosie in the hunting area in Mozambique’s Mutemba Safaris which was to be our final destination. 

Our arrival found us greeted by Wayne, his wife Tao and Ian Brown, a PH that would be taking another hunter of Dempsey’s to hunt in Mozambique with us. 

Early that evening we went for a game drive along the Olifants river seeing many animals including, elephant, hippo, crocs, kudu, bushbuck, impala, baboon and monkeys along with fresh tracks of several lions. This was a wonderful opener for what was to come in Mozambique!

We proceeded to have an excellent dinner, sat around the fire and enjoyed a cocktail or two whilst the gents hinted at what I was to expect in Mozambique. That night I went to sleep with the excitement of a 5 year old on Christmas Eve. What a wonderful feeling to have at 60 years of age! 

We were all up early for a wonderful breakfast, a quick goodbye and a thank you to Tao as we started the next leg of our safari. An 11 hour jeep ride into Mozambique! First we drove through the Kruger National Park where we saw countless plains game and several old buffalo bulls to get the heart going!  Dempsey cared to point out that the animals we would find in Mozambique would not be posing for pictures as they were here in Kruger!

Leaving the park to enter Mozambique went smoothly as we were the only vehicle there. Behind the customs office was a pig sty, and in the office they proceeded to write down one’s passport details into a big ledger with zero electronic influence – we were definitely getting out of the city!  Within a mile or two of entering Mozambique the road ended and quickly degraded into a four wheel drive dirt track that we would proceed to inch along for the next 150+ miles.  Something told me that the Million Dollar Highway in the US was about to take a back seat to the most exciting journey road of all time!

Shortly into the trip we forded the Limpopo River which was more sand than water now at the end of the dry season.  Next, as we continued Northwards we passed over the Nuanetsi River bed which was no more than a sand bed. The only town we drove through was Chicualacuala.  Over the next several hours drive we passed through a few bush villages of indigenous natives that had no electricity or running water.  These villages were located close to rivers where women were seen washing clothing and gathering drinking water.  Dempsey pointed out there are crocs in all of the waterways we passed. But water is life and the locals have no choice but to live with the risk of being snatched by crocs. 

As we worked our way to the final track it was explained that this road was now the border between Zimbabwe and Mozambique. As we drove, the Eastern Zimbabwe border marked the start of the second largest national park in Zimbabwe, the Gonarezhou National Park. Translated to  English it means ‘The Place of Elephants’. It certainly lived up to its name! This park is home to one of the largest concentrations of Elephants in all of Africa and borders the concession that we would hunt.

This length of road was lined with metal fence posts marking where strands of wire had once been present but had since been repurposed by poachers. In the coming weeks I would see first hand the impact and suffering caused by a poachers careless and indiscriminately snare. Albeit the anti poaching efforts of the Mutemba safari camp cannot be faulted for a second. 

Just when it seemed like my kidneys couldn’t take anymore bouncing we turned into the 50,000 acre concession.  Here we were going to spend the next 14 days hunting some of the finest and most wild free range bush in all of Africa. With the concession being part of the Greater Limpopo Trans-Frontier Park System we were now amidst many million acres of free range Africa stretching through Mozambique, Zimbabwe and South Africa. The animals here live in one of the great remaining areas of wildlife preservation that Africa still has to offer. 

We pulled into camp dusty and bruised and were eagerly greeted by several local staff members. These locals live at the camp year round fulfilling various roles depending on the time of year. They offered us warm smiles, traditional African handshakes with what was clearly great pride and excitement as to be able to share what they had cultivated on this property over the last 2 decades! 

I was then taken to my beautiful tent with all the necessary amenities including lights and clean water provided by solar power along with hot water that was heated by way of a wood fire. 

After freshening up, I was off to the communal area & dining tent to get further acquainted with those who would become part of the memories I would keep for the rest of my life! We had a few drinks, a wonderful dinner and discussed what our first day on safari would look like. This conversation covered the discussion around cape buffalo and what a proper bull meant to each of the Outfitters, PH’s and of course, to me, the hunter.  We were all in agreement that we would focus on trying to harvest the oldest of dagga boys we could find. 

The next morning at 5:30 AM I entered the dining tent and was greeted by Wayne. His optimism and stately cheerful exterior was contagious. Clearly this distinguished man was filled with excitement and anticipation to show me all that Mutemba had to offer.

We had a quick continental breakfast where I shared my thoughts that a person only gets to have one first day to hunt free range cape buffalo and today was that day for me! A dream in the making for over 40 years.  

The first item on the agenda was to shoot and check the rifles after the long journey. With great pride, I unsleeved my Heym 89B 500 Nitro Express rifle that I had spent much time with over the previous 18 months getting acquainted as well as perfecting my loads. After all, this was a traditional old world buffalo hunt and I planned on taking up the challenge with an old world style English double rifle. 

Naturally the PH’s and Trackers watched with a close eye hoping that I would demonstrate that I could confidently handle the rifle. At the end of the day it really is the hunter’s responsibility to stay focused, handle their rifle with confidence and be prepared to shoot with precision when the opportunity presents itself.

After confirmation that the rifles were zeroed I felt a small bit of weight gathering on my shoulders as in the coming days I would have to demonstrate my proficiency with both of my rifles since we were also hunting a full bag of plains game animals. 

Off to the first waterhole! Dempsey immediately put the trackers into action looking for fresh buffalo tracks. As I watched the trackers set off in a large circle around the water hole it was evident they took their trade very seriously. Whilst strolling around the waterhole, suddenly and appearing out of what seemed like thin air, a family of 8 elephant cows and calves were on top of us! We found ourselves between them and the waterhole! This was more anxiety provoking than words can express! The matriarch of the herd flared her ears, vocalized a loud squeal and started to walk very briskly toward us making it clear that we were not welcome.

Dempsey quickly grabbed me and started fast stepping towards the truck. However, we had to go towards the elephants who were still closing in on us and it was clear we were all going to converge at the Toyota at a similar time. As we reached the truck Wayne stepped out in front of us waving his hands and yelling. This huge herbivorous pachyderm and all of her followers quickly stopped, paused, turned and then continued fast walking at approximately 90 degrees to where we were. They took a small detour, circled around us and then much to our relief the herd headed to the water. We breathed a huge exhale of relief and needless to say, we gave them a wide berth. Elephant cows are not your friends and the expression ‘don’t poke the pig’ came to mind, only in this case it was ‘don’t poke the humongous elephants!’

Since there were no obviously fresh buffalo tracks we set off for the next waterhole.  Once again the trackers did their thing. Only this time when they returned they shared the news that a single bull track was heading northwards.  At that moment, the wind was right and we decided to take up the tracks.  Minutes of tracking slowly turned into an hour with still no sign of the bull slowing his walk. We continued on slowly and about an hour and a half into the walk the trackers paused, consulted amongst each other and reported that the Buff was looking for a place to lay down in the thick mopanie to escape the heat of the day and chew his cud. 

As we slowly moved through the shoulder high scrub mopanie I felt the wind brush across the back of my neck. Certainly not what any of us wanted to feel as we exchanged glances of concern. Onwards we went, ever more cautiously when out of nowhere we heard a rumble. Directly in front of us was Mr. Buff who had caught our scent. The bull appeared for that moment to live up to his reputation for being grumpy and unpredictable. This most formidable of Africa’s wild bovids decided his exit strategy was a fast run directly away from us. 

By this point the heat of the day was starting to set in and with it the wind started swirling. Dempsey felt we should leave the tracks and begin our walk back to the truck before the temperature reached the forecasted 38 C and we pushed the bull out of the concession area as he was likely to hang around without any further pressure. And with that, the afternoon found us hunting plains game.

Day two was upon us with another beautiful sunrise. We were out immediately to our first waterhole. Unfortunately finding no buffalo tracks.  This was repeated at the next water hole when finally at the third water hole we found a pair of buffalo that had recently headed out with the wind at their back and additionally a group of 7 bulls headed into the wind.

Although it was agreed by Dempsey and the trackers that the ideal would be to follow the 2 bulls, they felt we wouldn’t stand a chance of getting a decent look at them with the prevailing wind direction. With that in mind, we set off in pursuit of the 7 bulls. The arid air was dry, and the sirocco winds just right. We took it slowly over the next mile. Inch by inch we spotted the tracks. We knew the tracks were fresh and our bodies were flooded with the old cliche ‘the thrill of the hunt’. Maybe it was knowing that Cape buffalo are notorious for launching unprovoked charges or maybe it was the setting, or not knowing what was around the next bend…or maybe, it was all those things that made this time so exhilarating! 

We were about to step out of the mopane when we heard what was clearly buffalo on the run! We paused for several minutes to reflect and gather our senses as we discussed what had happened. The trackers were confident that something else had spooked them. The wind was holding steady, we were in heavy cover and hadn’t made any offensive noise. It was decided to proceed, hoping the buffs would not have gone far and calmed down quickly. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that these buff have a tough existence here in Mozambique. Lions clearly have them on the menu making them even more skittish. We also learned that there were 2 male lions in the concession area shadowing a large herd of cows, calves and young bulls. Clearly it took more than being a large bovine to stay alive in this bush.  These buffalo have to always be on guard 24/7 and running at the first sign of danger is their first line of defense.    

Slowly we pushed forward on the tracks for another 45 minutes. Their tracks went from a gallop to a trot and then finally to a walk.  Again within ½ a mile we could feel we were getting close.  My heart was pounding – was it joy, fear, excitement or all of the above? The sun was now reaching its zenith and once again the wind started to swirl. Shortly after we discovered that the buffalo tracks had gone back to a run. It seemed that they had picked up our scent.

Ever so quietly these giant beasts seem to be able to depart without even a sound. With that, we started the long walk back to the truck before the high temps set in. After lunch we were off to stalk some thickets that housed the elusive suni antelope. The taking of a suni that day would be the beginning of my pursuit of the elusive Tiny Ten.

Day 3.  When I glanced back after getting out of bed it was obvious I hadn’t moved all night since there was a dried salt outline on the brown sheet around where I had laid.  Clearly Moz was trying to go directly from Winter to Summer this first week of September. The heat and walking over the last few days gave me reason to reflect.  African hunting might not be as physically demanding as the high elevation hunting of elk in the Wyoming Rockies or chasing caribou through the deep snow and frigid weather of the Canadian Hudson Bay. But, don’t be fooled, this environment is demanding and the heat oppressive, and if one does not pace themselves you can be quickly consumed.

We had our traditional light breakfast and headed to the Land-cruiser. As we loaded up, Dempsey looked at me and said ‘I have a good feeling we’re going to get on the right buffalo today’.  I smiled and of course, agreed.   In the past, a tightness in my stomach was usually a reliable barometer that I was going to get into a bit of good fortune.  And, an excited tightness in my stomach was very much evident that morning.

We headed off to the first water hole to check for fresh tracks. On the way in we discovered the tracks of a large group of around 8 bulls moving away from the water hole. Then suddenly there it was, on the other side of the water – two sets of bull tracks.  The two tracks were clearly from large bulls and the trackers diligently followed the tracks for around 150 yards.  Upon their return they confirmed that these bulls were headed into the wind. Since it was early in the morning (6:00 AM) and we had a steady breeze in our face we could potentially enjoy several hours before the forecasted 40c heat turned on and the wind began to swirl.

We hastily gathered all the necessary supplies, loaded up our rifles and set off on the tracks. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour and our two bulls were still together, slowly plodding along walking into the wind. Temps were starting to increase, and the sun rose ever higher in the sky. Every few minutes I would kick a little sandy soil and watch it quickly rise and pass by my heels.  Anticipation was high, palpable even. Our focus was intense and clear. The trackers kept a slow yet steady pace through the thick mopane.  Neither heat, nor thirst nor fear could divert these seasoned professionals.

The trackers turn back to us. They report that the buffalo are starting to zig zag.  Good news, they are looking for a place to bed down for the day.

Immediately the trackers slowed their approach, using all their senses to see, hear and smell as they search through the shadows looking for the beasts. We continued on at this very slow cautious pace. With the five of us doing our best to not move more than our legs and make extra noises as we continue in a tight single file. We stop every 30 seconds or so to listen to our surroundings. Our head tracker Paulo looks back at us and ever so gently whispers that he hears ox-peckers about 100 yards ahead of us. We are closing in on the buffs.

The slight breeze is still steady and in our face.  Dempsey looks at me and says ’Start to prepare yourself for what you may do.  We are getting close’.  Keep in mind at this point, for me and Dempsey it’s all about finding the oldest of Dagga Boys. There are not any tape measures in our pockets!  We want age and character, not inches of spread. 

With this instruction I’m now feeling an unusual sense of heightened awareness. The sandy soil compressing under my feet is making more sound than what I like.  Every flicker of light off a branch grabs my attention.  My hands are clammy and I have a feeling like I have finally arrived home to finish what I was destined to do all my life. 

We move slowly…20, 30, 40 yards when all of a sudden Paulo starts slowly reversing back towards us. He reports that the buffalo are just on the other side of a termite mound that towers in front of us. The ox-peckers have given the buffalo up.

After careful thought and much consideration Dempsey tells the trackers to hold steady while he and I creep forward to the left of the termite hill. The trackers take a seat. Dempsey and I crouch down low and slowly inch forward to the left – first 5, then 10, then 15 yards and take a knee side by side just past the mound.   Dempsey stops and takes careful note of what can and cannot be seen in the shadows. We have to back out and rethink this stalk. 

Back to the trackers we silently trek keeping crouched low to the ground. We regrouped and huddled together.  Dempsey discussed his observations with the trackers and a new plan was discussed.  Dempsey and I were to make a clockwise loop, this time back behind where we now were. This allowed us to come in from the left, well below the termite mound and thus keeping the wind in check with lots of brush between us whilst a few shooting lanes would hopefully open up. We both began a 3 limbed crawl, carrying and protecting our rifles with our right hand.  Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into successfully traversed yards. Our progress was slow however it seemed that nothing was noticing our movement. 

Dempsey paused and rolled onto his rump, up came his binoculars.  He sees the buffalo. I now see one too. Lying in a channel about 50 yards away. I see the sun reflecting off his boss, his right ear twitching.  He is facing straight toward us, chewing his cud. Old, grey, beaten up, and if it’s possible to ‘see’ wisdom… a wise old bull!

His bosses were definitely smoothed over and reflecting in the morning sun. He is without question a shooter but Dempsey wants to see the other bull.  We crawl a little further and Dempsey stops his crawl mid stride.  Again onto his haunches he goes and up comes his binoculars.

He hastily puts his binos down and with excitement clearly carrying through his voice he says “you are going to shoot the second bull”. Dempsey whispers “Old old Dagga Boy.  One horn broken off and a proper Dugga boy!! Can you see him, Frank?”. I responded “Not at all”.  He looks from where I’m positioned and tells me to turn around and start crawling back in the direction we came. Onwards I lead a slow crawl for about 10 yards.  Dempsey grabs my foot and signals for me to stop. 

With that he begins to whisper in my ear that the bull I couldn’t see before is 20 yards to the right of the bull I had already seen.  He reminds me again, this is a spectacular old bull.  “Here is what I want you to do Frank”, Dempsey instructs.  “I want you to crawl ahead just past where we could see the second bull, there is a small footpath there. That will take your eye right to the second bull. The bull you’re going to shoot.  When you get to that path, get up on your knees and take him!”

O’Boy, I can feel my pupils dilate, a buzzing in my ears and a dry lump in my throat.  My adrenaline was rushing. This is it. Without pause I start the crawl back, glance ahead to my right, the first bull – the only one I’ve seen at this point, is up on his feet looking my way! I don’t want anything to go wrong but things seem to be quickly crumbling around us! I continue to crawl whilst looking to the right. As I close in on the footpath the first bull suddenly runs off behind the termite mound immediately replaced like a shadow by the second bull. I feel Dempsey stop me and with the burden of haste carried clearly through his voice he instructs me to shoot him immediately. This is it. I swing around to the right and start to come up onto my knees when my eyes lock in on a big black wall. The target bull is standing a stone’s throw away and intensely looking my way! Not only is he looking my way but he is also facing me so I will have to make the always tricky frontal shot.

I straighten my torso and I go off my left hand settling on both of my knees with my feet behind me. I bring the rifle to my face, not once taking my eyes off of the buffalo’s. This was certainly not the shot I was hoping for! Frontal shots are difficult on any animal, never mind a Cape Buffalo that is built like an army tank. He is holding his head in the alert position with his nose about 50% up his body line.  Having studied shot placement at nauseam I knew I needed to put a bullet directly under his chin to reach his vitals hidden behind it.  

I put the red dot on his jaw right below his nose. I begin to take up the slack on the trigger. The trigger breaks cleanly and the rifle roars. A 570 Grain Swift A-Frame bullet hurtles through the air on a path to meet Mr Buffalo smack in the chest.  As I begin to recover from the recoil  I see that the Buffalo has been hard hit and is dancing in place. Actually he’s doing a forced acrobatic flip in which his head and neck are being pushed above and past his torso. His head contacts the ground before his front feet which are now above him. The effect of the massive energy dump the Swift bullet has now expelled into his body was truly unbelievable to witness. 

Dempsey immediately tells me to shoot him again. The bull was now on the ground, all four feet under him facing directly away from us with his head facing slightly left of his hips.  I sent a  Woodleigh 570 grain hydro solid into his left hind quarter that we later learned came out just inside of his right front leg below his shoulder. 

“Reload, Reload” Dempsey calmly but urgently tells me. As I break the double, both empties eject and fly through the air as I quickly grab 2 more solids from my ammo belt, slide them into the barrels and close the action with a solid thud. Dempsey grabs me by the arm and we jog towards the buffalo to close the distance. His head is still up. Dempsey is a stride in front of me a little to my left doing what any good PH worth his salt would do, making sure his hunter is safe and not taking his eyes off of the buffalo after confirming the first buff had evacuated the area. 

We closed the distance by half and by now the buffalo has gathered his senses and heard us coming.  He turns his head and makes eye contact. We both anticipate what is next. I move into position beside Dempsey and at that very instant the buff somehow springs to his feet in a big cloud of dust, masking his shoulder and body from clear view while he remains focused on us. In the blink of an eye he is broadside as he turns to face us. Clearly he is planning to come at us.  His head is facing us and the torso and legs are starting to follow!

I bring the rifle to my face, find some black in the cloud of dust that has now enveloped him and send a solid down range.  This bullet once again drives him off his feet but his legs don’t stop this time. He is knocked over onto his side and he uses that energy to roll back in the opposite direction of the fall onto his feet and within seconds is running broadside at a left angle away from us like he was going to town to cash in a million dollar lottery ticket. I put the second Woodleigh into his torso but he shows no sign of impact. The bull clearly has buckets of adrenaline racing through his system. 

The bull disappears into the brush. 

Nervous celebrations and discussions recapping what had just happened start but we know not to count your chickens before they have hatched. We wait, we wait and we wait some more.  No death below!  After 15 minutes Dempsey puts the trackers into action. As we follow the blood it looks strong and bright.  Pieces of lung are mixed in and several large pieces of bone shards are collected along the way – some as big as an inch square.  We later learned that the first bullet had hit him square in the lower jaw, went through his neck and a single lung before coming to rest in his paunch. 

However even with all these shots in, the bull’s tracks suddenly went from walking to running. Blood became lighter and within about 100 yards he headed into the thickest of cover showing no sign of a broken leg, shoulder or hip. 

With this we stop. 

Dempsey looked at me and said, ‘Buffalo don’t stiffen up.  But if we give them enough time, sometimes they lay down and die.  So we wait’.  Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into 1/2 hour.  We listened but didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. We got up, stretched our limbs and Dempsey explained to me how this was going to go.  He said, “First, this is going to likely end in a gunfight.  If he comes, wait until he is close and shoot between the eyes if his head is down and in the nose if it is up.  If he gets someone on the ground you must get low, kneel if necessary before you shoot so you don’t shoot someone by mistake”. 

You could clearly feel the nervous energy radiating through the air.  This is exactly the situation a PH doesn’t want to be in.

But this is the situation we now found ourselves in, and we must deal with it. Onwards we tracked into the thickest of mopane, following tracks that have at least turned back to a walk. One step at a time, we look, listen and keep our rifles pointed forward with our fingers on the safety.  If there was ever a time that all senses were heightened to their utmost, this would be it! 

Slow steps turn into a 3/4 mile track as we continue through this stretch of mopane. As we come out on the other side it’s evident he has not stopped to lay down. The blood was light.  I can see the focus and concern on Dempsey’s face. We trudged ahead slowly and deliberately, arriving at a small clearing where the bull had stopped. Blood is everywhere!  It’s clearly coming out of both sides of his body and mouth.  Truly amazing how he has covered this much ground and not laid down once. But clearly, we now believe that he is very sick.

We take a few more steps and one of the trackers quickly stops and points and says buffalo. There, 60 yards in front of us, low down in knee high grass is a grey blob that I would have said was a boulder. Dempsey tells me to shoot immediately. I pick up, not able to tell end from end and place a solid into the middle of the grey boulder. Immediately after my gun sounds Dempsey also fires an assurance shot putting a 400 Grain Barnes Solid from a 416 Rigby into the bull. Nothing happens, no movement. The trackers report that they believe he was already dead. But we were certainly taking no chances! We reload and approach slowly. As he comes into better focus, we see he is facing us. Yes he was dead, but clearly he had turned around and was facing and protecting his back trail. 

The warrior had passed! We finished the approach. From behind the Buffs shoulder Dempsey gives the buff a kick to the rump and touches the Buff’s eye with the muzzle of his rifle and confirms there is no sign of life. The battle is over and a lifelong dream has just been fulfilled. A beautiful old Dagga Boy was down! 

After the hugs, smiles and handshakes we sit and reflect on the fact that these are truly the best of times. We have a safe hunting party and have hunted what we believe to be the perfect old bull. He is down in condition shown clearly by the loose skin on his neck. He is no longer the physical specimen he was surely many years ago in his prime. His right horn is recently broken off with the top of his boss about to completely chip off as well! His left horn tip is also thoroughly worn down. The scars on his face and the healed gash on his right rear leg are all telling of a bull that has won many battles to maintain breeding rights and survive the ever present lions. Clearly on both sides of his torso one can see grey protruding bumps revealing that a few ribs were broken. Some of these ribs were later seen to no longer be attached to his spine!  The condition of his hide is scarred and most parts are hairless. Finally his ears are both shredded from all the fighting he has done. Clearly this bull has worked hard to pass on his genetics in years gone by and was struggling to just hang on at this point in time at the end of a very dry Mozambique Winter.

It is interesting, being born on a farm in the United States you are almost raised with a gun in hand. It is a time in one’s life that affords one the privilege to be able to provide to those in need. It allows for personal self reflection and graces one with the opportunity to be in and appreciate nature. All of that was something I had the privilege of experiencing almost since birth. Yet, this hunt, in this place…made me feel like it was the first time I’d ever hunted, the first time I’d ever truly seen the beauty of nature, smelt the sweet air of the wild or felt the heat of the African soil underfoot. It was a truly beautiful reawakening.

He was hunted on September 4th 2024 at the following geographical location in Mozambique.  28 1/2 – 21.613916 degrees  32.167947 degrees.   

Hunting on Mutemba Safari concession in the Gaza Province of Mozambique – https://mutembasafaris.com

Professional Hunter: Dempsey Bayly with Bayly Sippel Hunting Safaris – https://www.baylysippelsafaris.co.za

Hunter: Frank Trovato 1051 Hemlock Farms, Lords Valley Pennsylvania 18428 USA  Phone  +1 (570) 618-9020

PS – I would Love to come back to Rigby in South London for a visit.