“Mummy, there’s a giraffe staring at my croissant!” is not something I typically hear at the breakfast table on a Tuesday morning, but today is anything but ordinary. I’m in Kenya with my husband and our two daughters, Poppy (11) and Matilda (9), at Tambarare Camp, a tented camp nestled in the splendour of the Ol Pejeta Wildlife Conservancy in Laikipia County. It’s October half-term half-term, and we’re halfway through our six-day adventure.
The excitement for our first-morning game drive is on par with the thrill of heading to Wembley for The Eras Tour , albeit with more animals and fewer friendship bracelets. Yesterday’s unexpected encounter with a pride of lions during our transfer from Kamok airstrip set the bar even higher, so I’m keen to temper the girls’ expectations. As we enjoy breakfast on our villa’s balcony, I earnestly explain that while we hope to see all creatures, great and small, nature plays by its own rules.
Just as I wrap up my motivational speech, a giraffe saunters into view, curiously peeking at us before munching on treetops. Nature’s delightful unpredictability steals the show, and the girls dart off to grab their cameras. This trip has been years in the making – a long-held dream delayed by Covid and the deaths of my parents in quick succession.
But, serendipitously, the timing feels just right. The girls are now seasoned travellers, equipped with iPads and e-numbers for the 10-hour flight from London to Nairobi, able to manag.
