The outskirts of Pretoria...

After the Brai last night, the Dutch guys went off to the bar, where Holland-Spain was being shown. Timbavati was a great camp with a good bar, but the pushiest barstaff I've ever met. They were really friendly, but really keen for us to buy drinks. There was another Nomad truck in the camp – that had just come back from Mozambique. They had a fairly good crew onboard, and for the first time since Cape Town, there was a party atmosphere. Put it this way: the bar manager actually bought us ten absinths, complete with burning sugar. It tasted like – like I'd been having a shower and accidentally got some shower gel in my mouth. The other crew seemed fun, and there were also three South Africans there, up from J'berg for the weekend. One of them really made me chuckle. Katie was a drama student, about five feet tall, with eyebrows hovering around five feet four inches. The Dutch guys, having lost the football, went to bed – only to be woken up and dragged out by Heather at around midnight. I eventually got to bed around 3:30am. The bar manager was young and ambitious. Katie was keen on him, I think, but he was more keen to tell me his expansion plans. Very odd. There was also another one of those 'characters' there. John was in his fifties, with drooping grey moustache, and rheumy eyes. He was from Dudley originally, had come over on holiday, and stayed. He was clearly there every night, telling the same jokes. Technically, he was on 'sick leave' from the bar, but was there anyway. Something tells me the sickness might be something terminal. Anyway, it was another one of those, 'I don't ever want to be in that situation' moments – just ticking along, doing the same thing every day. It's idylic for a couple of days, but not forever. I mean, the manager/owner, yes, he's ambitious, building his business. John, though, just seems to be marking time. Whatever makes you happy, I guess.

So, I was woken up at seven by the Aussie girls, who were off on their transfer. No-one apart from QFR had elected to do the game walk, so we had a bit of a lie in before breakfast, then off to Jo'berg via the Panorama Route. This was a picturesque drive up on to the highvelt, with amazing views. We stopped off at 'God's Window' and 'Bourke's Luck Potholes' for photos, but it was fairly whistle-stop.

On the drive back, I came very close to letting myself down. I'd been thinking about where to stay in Jo'berg, but I was on the point of saying, 'Sod it', and staying at the Fly Inn – where we were to be dropped off. The Fly Inn is the sort of place where it seems some budding entrepreneur has spotted a gap in the market that doesn't exist. I could imagine the owner on Dragon's Den, describing how backpacker hostels are very popular, but they're always grotty and basic, so don't charge much...

'I'm proposing a new kind of backpackers – a highly-specified, luxury facility with dorms with televisions, fine linen etc.'

The problem is, of course, backpacker hostels are cheap because backpackers don't have much money. So, backpackers don't stay at the Fly Inn because it's too expensive, and business people and holiday makers don't stay there because it's not a hotel. It was completely devoid of atmosphere, and guests. Nevertheless, I did consider simply hanging out there for a couple of days. Oh, my other concern was that QFR were on pretty much the same schedule as I, and I was keen to escape from them. The thing is, I had such a great time at Long Street that I've been telling all and sundry how great travelling solo is – like I'm the first person ever to have discovered it (you can imagine, can't you). Now, when it's come to the crunch, I'm not quite as confident as I thought I was. Or perhaps I'm just lazy.

At lunch, I decided to have a quick word with Quintan, asking if it might be worth staying in town. He concurred immediately, saying he didn't like the Fly Inn either, for exactly the same reasons. So, on the truck, we've made some phonecalls, and a car from the 'Ritz Backpackers' is picking me up from the Fly Inn when I arrive. So, instead of two days of not very much, I'm about to start another mini-adventure. Frightening how close I came to bottling it, though.