A meeting with the local leopard

Jonathan Ledgard, my friend and Economist colleague in Nairobi, a prince among men and a contributor to these pages, sends me an end-of-year e-mail from which I hope he will forgive my quoting. It is too good not to share:

Another year almost chalked up. Strange to be here on the Equator,
under a blazing sun, and watching my three year old son, Hamish,
standing under a palm tree in the garden and singing along with an early Sinatra take of Jingle-Bells. Life is good. Our St. Bernard survived a meeting with the local leopard. I survived Somalia and have been scribbling, scribbling on the next novel.

At such moments, I feel hopelessly provincial.