If you watched the last YouTube video you'll know we're in Cape Town. (Well, actually, right now we're in a place called Oudtshoorn as part of our Grand Tour - or, as Anne might say, another of, "Ginger's Bright Ideas."

We made it to Cape Town just in time for the global launch of Omicron, the latest variant to cause much angst around the world and much glee amongst the shareholders of the outfits flogging testing kits and dodgy, overpriced quarantine hotel rooms.

When we first landed in Richard's Bay we got a fairly negative impression of South Africa; apart from the reams of paperwork. "See the cops and medics over there? This morning, some guys stabbed a poor bloke just stood there fishing, then chucked him in the river." And that was in our first morning.

"Don't even think about going out after dark."

"Don't go over THERE!" says the security guard. "Why not?" You ask. "Just don't" is the answer, the local guy not keen or perhaps embarrassed to share the reasons.

Everywhere carries its share of horror stories. Glasgow has its own. I guess the difference is that the tales we hear from our South African friends is of experiences they've suffered first hand or at least, from immediate family. In Glasgow, it's more, "I heard from a guy in a pub whose cousin's mate was told by their pal that......"

Undeterred, we swopped two hulls for two wheels, Time Bandit for Bike Bandit, (a BMW F800 GS Adventure for the one or two bikers I know who read this nonsense) and, after a refresher ride around the industrial estates of Cape Town just to check I remembered which levers to press, we headed out into the veld and wild of South Africa.

I'm delighted to report that so far, everywhere we've been in the West Cape province we've enjoyed smiles and friendly waves. Passing drivers honk their horns and give you a nod. Villagers likewise, ready with a smile and a wave. Like everywhere, there's "no-go" areas, and some of the corrugated-iron shanty towns we've passed, which I'd have thought would be long gone, post apartheid, are reminiscent of those I last saw in the newsreels of the seventies, the result of who knows what in central government, exacerbated by immigration.

South Africa it seems, is at the other end of the migrant route to Europe as Africa's impoverished seek a better life in places they've no doubt been told by the people traffickers have pavements lined with gold, right before they part with their meagre savings.

Consequently, South Africa, from what we've heard so far, has an illegal immigration problem they just don't have the resources to support and the sprawling shanty towns are partly testament to that.

My apologies if I've put a damper on your day, I usually aim for humour but I thought first impressions worth recording for when I'm sat in my care home.

One thing they do exceptionally well is weather! Twenty to twenty five during the day with blue skies, clear mountain air, quiet roads and of course, a sex shop.

Cheerier posts to follow.