I am sending this to some people

by

Hugh Paxton’s Blog rates this a happy New Year sort of thing. My esteemed daughter in a very rough tough bit of rainforest on the Thai/Myanmar border trying to photograph a tiger. She got traces but no tiger. She’s a credit to everybody working for conservation in this dangerous area.

I love children like this! So do the rangers. Although one at a time might be best! And none might be better!

Annabel has had rather a charmed life. Namibians, South Africans, Rhodesians (I love those people), Zimbabweans (mixed feelings about that bunch of land theft racist bullying bankrupt horrible stinking nasty fat geriatric murdering incompetent sycophantic, beaten down boastful bastards),

BLOG ED: Hugh will you please restrain yourself? Some of those vile pieces of Zim Slime might take offence!

HUGH: No. I won’t restrain myself!

BLOG ED: Fair enough actually. They really are obscene! His daughter wants to be the new president!

HUGH: Very fat. Very stupid. Should lead her nation to victory after victory! Can I get back to my story?

BLOG ED: No. Mugabe is an African monster! He should be strung up by his bollocks and left to dangle and contemplate the errors of his ways.

HUGH: Everybody has his or her opinions and I I think we have let opinions interfere with the story. Let me resume!

Annabel has met Botswana’s finest – she’s been exposed to wonderful things with tusks, teeth, claws and has had to endure lots of very boring campfire chats with large men telling stories. It’s caught on. And why not? If some bloke shows you where his arm was bitten off by a croc and has the missing arm to prove it who wouldn’t pay attention?

Eleven years old? Tracking a tiger? Or watching Diary of a Wimpy Kid?

I vaguely know where my girl is going! She wants to track tigers. And wants to watch the Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

Annabel is 11 and I am proud to see her mix Wimpy kids with tiger conservation! It’s about right. She’s a little girl, still not a bloke with boots, cranial injuries, a crap pack of supplies and a muddy assault rifle heading off up hill to spend three days in ambush with a gibbon peeing on his head.

When she is twelve?

Who can say what the hell is going to happen? Daughters! Any advice most welcome! I think she’s got the conservation thing deeply embedded. I cannot seeing her requesting My Little Pony for her next birthday.

A very Happy New Year from here! And screw Mugabe!

Hugh in Bangkok

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