I awake at first light and, once again, lament the fact my body clock doesn’t have a snooze button. It sounds like Richard has the same problem and we’re soon watching the sun rising through the steam rising from our black coffees.

The bucket of chicken eventually got the works on the way home from Benfontein last night so it’s not long before we’re joined by the students. They’ve been driven by hunger to forage. We decide it’s easier to get driven by Gus to Kimberley.

On the way there, we stop to look at the flamingoes which colonise a dam on the outskirts of town. With the sun behind us we get the full impact of 35,000 of the shocking pink birds. We can hardly take our eyes off them, except to watch out and avert the bigger shock of a full impact from a train, seeing as our viewpoint is the railway track.

From there we go to to see Kimberleys Big Hole. The lads said I looked rather disappointed to find it was some old diamond mine; I’ve been too long in the veld! As it is, we score breakfast there then have a most interesting time at the old workings and visitor centre and end up spending far more time there than intended.

Next stop is Johans office where we thank him once again for organising our visit. He’s insistent that we should take a Springbok home with us so we then take a detour out to Benfontein. As the vehicle is already jam-packed, we abandon the jam in favour of 20kg of biltong-to-be. It’s a bonus that we get to see the place in the daylight, despite the fact there is nothing to see but distant horizon. If you were sent out for wood for a braai here, you’d be gone for a while. A long, long while.

We make one final stop at a mall on our way back through Kimberley where Gus and I meet up briefly with Sharon (of Rooipoort fame) while the students attempt to eat their own bodyweights in pizza. Then we hit the road once again, and start the long journey home.

200km later we reach Kuruman and the students stir long enough to pack their hamster-pouches with yet more fast food while I pack the last airpockets in the people-carrier with meat and alcohol. (There is a braai a-brewin’.) Then we’re off again.

The last leg of our journey sees us on our last legs (though luckily we can’t feel them anymore) and is notable only for its brilliant sunset and dulled wits. I hope there is someone still at the workshop when we get back, as it’s going to need a crowbar to get us our of here. It’s been a long day.