Freetown might seem an odd destination for a long weekend but it’s certainly doable, as our friend just proved.
I picked up our old housemate Tim – or Topsy Tim, as the Flump named him (her first CBeebies in-joke) – from the SeaCoach terminal at 6am on Friday.
He’d enjoyed a trouble-free overnight flight until the passport officer stamped him in and then asked for money for a drink. Being a kindly soul, and having nothing smaller, Topsy handed over a fiver (Sterling), enough to fund a decent night out.
We aimed to show Tim as much of what Sierra Leone had to offer as is possible inside four days. Continue reading
We’re fairly well accustomed to sleeping through seriously noisy nights, with rain hammering on our corrugated metal roof.
And we had plenty of thunder crackling around at the start of the rainy season.
But at 4.30am on Monday, a noise like no other made me shoot bolt upright.
A deafening noise rumbled apocalyptically around Freetown’s mountainous borders, echoing around the compass points like it’d never end. Continue reading
The response to our revelation that we’re about to move to this ultra-impoverished part of West Africa is usually accompanied by either a look of abject horror, or a sort of green-eyed cooing. Continue reading