“Walking home from the pub in St Lucia, South Africa, was a joy – the stars were out and the locals would beep their horns as they drove past, which they all chose do rather than walk, oddly. But one night a man stopped his truck, shouted at us in Xhosa and prodded our chests. Finally, with us still confused, he pointed his torch at the trees. In the branches was a leopard. It’d been hunting in the area -- everybody was travelling in vehicles as they didn’t want to be eaten. Hmm.”