The backstory:
When I was back in South Africa about five years ago, my family and I had a close encounter with a baboon. We were having a picnic at Cape Point, parked by the side of the road. I was outside the car, wandering around, while my two sisters and mother were inside, munching their sandwiches. I noticed a big, ugly, hairy baboon loping towards the car and high-tailed it back inside, all the while shouting to my sister to close the front door.
Alas, she was somewhat slow on the uptake and the baboon made it in the car. He climbed over my sister and stationed himself between the two front seats. He growled at me, his ugly face and fangs just about a foot away from mine. He then grabbed our sandwiches, and made away, my mother by that time having opened up the other front door.
Bloody baboons.
So out of the blue last week, I get this postcard from Stratford-Upon-Avon, scanned here.
(I pixellated the first line of my address. The text reads: Long time no see! I left S Africa, found job randomly hitting typewriter keys for this playwright... England is nice except the food. I miss your sandwiches! Love, the babboon." I love the dodgy (baboon-like?) handwriting.
It gave me a heck of a kick to get. I wondered who the heck pulled off this excellent jape until A- admitted to it. Apparently his chum J- was in England on holiday, and A- got him to mail it off.
A fine jape. Damn fine.
Bloody baboons.
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