Dr Wilson I presume...

Working the fans

So after 2 weeks in this country, one thing has become very apparent. It turns out that Dad is the most famous man in Tanzania. I'm not exaggerating. Literally every place we go, someone rushes up to greet him. It happens everywhere - on the beach in Zanzibar, in the hills of Morogoro, in a grimy bar in Bagamoyo, on the streets of Stonetown. At the airport, he is greeted by a friend in the check-in queue, a further acquaintance in the security line, and then several others in the departure lounge itself. In a two-hour stroll through downtown Dar, we meet everyone from government ministers and professors to street boys and waiters. The cry of "Hello Graham" is everywhere. It's my first real taste of celebrity.

Ferrero Rocher, sir?

Tiffin is served

We head to the magical island of Zanzibar, where through Dad's connections, we get to stay in none other than the British High Commissioner's official residence. Happily, the man himself is elsewhere, so we get the full run of the house, its staff, and the stunning views from its clifftop perch. Whilst I find the portrait of the queen above our bed slightly disturbing, the fact that we are driven around the island in the official Land Rover complete with the little flagpole on the front more than makes up for it.

Visiting the Old Dears