Day Nine

The day, hour by hour

• Morning

  Snorkelling with the seals

  Wetsuits, masks, and a short boat ride to a colony of Cape fur seals, which behave underwater exactly like dogs — twisting, spiralling, upside down, coming close enough to touch and then gone. For anyone who would rather not, the boat is the better seat and the show is the same.

• Alternative

  A surf lesson instead

  A small, safe break and an instructor whose only job is to get them standing and laughing. The family chooses on the morning.

• Lunch

  A last long one

  Somewhere on the water, with time to do nothing.

• Afternoon

  Showers, packing, a last swim

  Rooms held late so nobody sits in a lobby with wet hair.

• Evening

  VIP check-in, and home

  Escorted through in Russian, with no queue at any point.

• Some weeks later

  A parcel

  Inside is a book: the story of their nine days, which I write myself, as I wrote September Tides↗, illustrated with photographs taken along the way, with the children’s names in it. Years from now, when somebody asks what Africa was like, this is what they will go and fetch.

Who is where