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COPYRIGHT 2005 The Spectator Ltd. (UK)
London
This summer's big G8 Africa palaver has turned London, or at least the London I know, into a little African village. It makes it great fun for me, since even if I'm here for a few weeks usually I become homesick. I poke my lamb cutlets and dream of our flavoursome Dorper mutton. I screw up my nose at my Merlot and yearn for Tusker. I ambush Eritrean taxi drivers en route to the Bush with questions about the latest politics in Asmara. I weep at wildlife documentaries on TV, not because of the animals so much as the background sounds of cicadas or frogs. I marvel at how you can discuss and read more about Africa...
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