Gang,
In light of recent events, I felt this a good time to post up the entire first chapter of a book. A book both Fairgame and I have been working on for about 4 years together, 9,500 miles apart.

These events, people and places are real, many of you will recognize them. Its a bit long but in the interest of the book it all needs to be here.

Please enjoy.


The Sweetest Stench

Even from inside the hot, stuffy cabin of the light aircraft, I could see his infectious, mischievous grin. We were now no more than 100 yards apart, but his world and mine couldn’t be more distant. As the plane parked beside his well worn open cruiser, he stood there with his leather hat askew, looking worn but clean, tired yet anxious. As the two friends embraced as only old hunting chums can, it hit me like a freight train. The fragrances of the real Africa, the smell of the diesel, the distinct uncivilized smell of his shirt being laundered in Luangwa river water, the earthy smell of the African bush and the ever present smell of the fires, I was home again. The Luangwa Valley.


The visit to Peter Hankins gravesite had eluded me on prior visits to the valley, but on this safari I had insisted that Alister and I stop to pay our respects on the way to safari camp from Waka-Waka airstrip. Peter Hankins death was immortalized as the opening chapter in Capsticks “Death in the long grass” He was unceremoniously hauled from his open tent by a man eating lioness and consumed within morbid earshot of the horrified unarmed tourist on the fringes of the camp. He was leading a photo safari not far from the safari camp on the Luangwa River from which I write this. The short walk down a picturesque path, well shaded by a grove of sausage and mango trees, located behind the Chanjuzi district Game Department office, brought me to his well manicured gravesite. It is obvious this man was well respected by all, the grave is surrounded by a short fence made from linked chain and is headed by a cross and a concrete tombstone stating only the dates of his birth and his death with the words “Killed by lion, Mwaleshi River” in rusty iron letters. It was an appropriate and peaceful final resting place. Maybe I just felt the need to walk this hallowed ground, see the same sights and feel the same adrenaline felt, while wandering as did he and many before, in this borderless, vastness of hunting dangerous game in Africa’s killing fields.


Little did I know how close to crossing our paths would be in just four short day’s.


I have hunted Africa several times before, but this safari was to be the “one”. We would be hunting for 21 days for lion, leopard, buffalo and other assorted species, some found only in Zambia and others yet found only in the Luangwa Valley (Cookson’s Wildebeest). The area is known as Chanjuzi, it has a reputation for producing big black maned lions and leopards are described as plentiful. Hunting here is as it should be in Africa, its wild, old, dusty and dangerous. Safari camp sits directly above the Luangwa River in the deep shade of the Musikili (natal mahogany) trees. The days on safari here are long and sometimes difficult both physically and emotionally. On any safari as long as this there are bound to be days that don’t go well, either you or somebody else has a fowl up that requires time away from “your” hunting. You must just go with the flow even when you and you PH have a disagreement. Just grin and bear it, and remember, always remember he’s the professional.


Hippo hunting is usually the first day of any lion hunt here and I had been really excited about it. Although it seemed I was the only one in camp excited to get started on hippo day. I had visions of steam shovel sized open mouths with tusks looking like miniature jumbo teeth, charging from the river like a locomotive, ripping the spare off the back of the truck. The Luangwa has the largest most concentrated population of hippo in all of Africa and as a result when the river is reduced to only pools, the bulls are easily identified. We selected a bull from the pod; I readied my scope sighted .375HH on the sticks, shot him proper just in front of the ear. That was to be the excitement for the day. First waiting for the hippo to float to the surface, probably no more than an hour then figuring how to retrieve the bull in the croc infested waters. Several fishermen wanting protein and willing to work for it volunteered to wade out and tie a rope around the floating behemoth, it then required everybody on the beach to drag the hippo to the shallows. Then he must be rolled by hand onto the beach for quartering. The job of butchering this 6000 pound beast is large, daunting and extremely messy. By midday we were loaded up with four very large hippo quarters split up into the back of two trucks. The next task was also formidable, getting both trucks out of the deep sand in the riverbed with all the weight in the backs, having nothing to winch to for 200 yards. We eventually got the whole show back on the river road and began the tedious process of hanging baits.


It is my rookie opinion that this is probably the most crucial factor in the success or lack thereof in the hunting of lions. Alister and his native crew were a machine, they all knew their jobs, John would climb the tree, Lemick would assemble the ropes and chains, toss the leads to John waiting in the tree, Frederick would start to build a grass skirt to shelter the bait visually from the air and Mettie would do nothing. As Alister and I watched the team I asked enough questions to become annoying. But I came away with this, the tree selected must be constructed in such a way to allow a large male lion to feed at standing height on his rear legs and for the machan tree to have boughs large enough to hold a machan and to be no more than 30 yards or so from the bait with very few in any obstructions between. Alister believes most lion wrecks come from the hunter being to far from the bait. They also spent quite a lot of time dragging hippo intestines around with ropes made from palm leaves, I guess to create a scent trail leading marauding lions straight to the bait site, Ingenious. We hung the two baits then just flat ran out of daylight for any further activities that day. These baits are quite far apart, distance who knows, maybe 10 -15 kilo’s but time wise you can burn up plenty of diesel and days just driving between baits. Both baits were along the river, on the way home that day we encountered one of the secondary species I wanted to shoot on this safari, a Chobe bushbuck. As far as non-dangerous game goes, bushbucks are in my opinion tops. In the bushbuck clan the Chobe is by far the most handsome, These rams have a soft golden brown coat with ivory spots running down their flanks with lyre shaped spiraling horns that typically turn outward at the top finishing off one of the finest hunting trophies available anywhere on the planet. This ram was deep in the thick riverine undergrowth along the river, but the waning daylight deceived this ram and the alpenglow of the setting sun illuminated his golden brown coat and contrasting his pure ivory white spots making his natural colors and his camouflage nearly ineffective. With the amount of cover and thick jess he was in Ali recommended my .470 double with solids. I complied and made a solid shoulder shot that put the ram down as if he was pole axed. He was spectacular; His horns were 14-15 inch’s in length, shaped perfectly. We then proceeded on to camp in the dark, dropped off my bushbuck at the skinning shed and added to the truck, the front half of a buffalo from a previous safari that would go to the village in the morning. We just left guns, gear and remaining hippo and buffalo in the hunting car and went to our chalets for a shower before dinner.


As Alister and I were enjoying a sundowner and snacks on the patio overlooking the Luangwa after our showers, all hell broke loose with the camp staff, it seemed they had seen lions near the trucks. Of course we felt the need to go check it out, only problem was the guns were still in the hunting car! Alister figured all the commotion had scared the buggars off so we approached with nothing but flashlights and a cold Mosi beer and expecting to see nothing. As we stood not five feet from the truck with the hippo and buff in back looking around with flashlights, Alister suddenly jumped back and hollered, scat god damn! With that a lioness with a bloody smile emerged from beneath the buffalo ribcage not 10 feet from where we were standing and jumped from the truck bed with a woof woof into the star filled Zambian night.


The first day of bait checking started not far from camp. Alister had been seeing a big black maned male around camp occasionally but had never had a lion hunt going on when he was around. We checked the bait not 800 yards from camp (the first we hung) and it had been hit the very first night. The black mane hair was long and straight with some shorter darker kinky hair that Alister said seems to indicate an older lion. While we felt optimistic about this we continued on to the other bait. It had been hit by a pair of leopards.


After a restful night sleep and an early start we again checked the bait closest to camp and again it had been hit. This time we actually spotted a younger male leaving the bait site as we approached. This bait was very active and Alister decided we would first hang another hippo quarter here to keep a good supply of meat around. As stated before it’s tedious, lots of standing around swatting copious amounts of tsetse flies, telling lies of animals that were killed and loves that were lost. We then gathered the troops and hit the bush to cut poles for a machan. It was now about 1:00 PM the machan would take about an hour and a half to construct and as hanging baits everyone knew their jobs John climbed the tree, Lemick threw the poles up to John, Fredrick gathered grass to conceal the hunters and Mettie did nothing.


Upon completion Alister and I climbed into the machan and made gun ports, laid down blankets for comfort and quiet, got everything set then we went back to camp for an early dinner. We were to arrive at the machan for a proper lion hunt at about 4:00 PM. Alister has a tradition of showering without soap, shampoo no deodorant or anything unnatural prior to sitting for lions. I was filled with nervous anticipation the kind of butterflies you may feel before a first date or when being paced on the highway by a trooper. The boys dropped us off at the base of the tree smiled at us as they left, we climbed the 12 mopane pole ladder rungs simply nailed to the tree’s trunk and I was now doing something little boys dream about their entire lives, I was hunting for lions in Africa with a professional hunter you couldn’t help but like. He seemed to me to be very much like Harry Selby was described by Robert Ruark in the classic “Horn of the Hunter”. He wore only short pants, never trousers. He walked with a confident swagger, his cartridge belt was missing a few polished brass cases from hell only knows what. He wore a permanent smile; his self confidence was truly inspiring. He is the classic “gentleman” professional hunter and I liked hunting with this man very much.


It was 4:00 PM on the spot as we settled in. It’s funny the things you notice when you are doing certain things. I remember how nice it was not having a single tsetse fly in the machan; they must not prowl far above the ground. I was looking all around eyes wide open, heart pounding and looked over at Alister with his eye closed lying on his back just listening. I looked up at the sausage tree we were perched in and wondered how it would feel to get clobbered in the noggin by a falling sausage. Just then Alister opened one eye looked at me and pointed to his ear, he’s heard something. I to then started to really concentrate on my other senses and I to then heard it. It sounded like the wind blowing through fields of wheat in Kansas but it wasn’t the wind and this isn’t Kansas. As I focused my stereophonic hearing to try and determine from where in the abyss of long grass surrounding the bait he was, I saw him. It was the young male lion we had jumped off the bait earlier. We just watched him feed then rest then feed some more for probably about 30 minutes. As he lay directly under the bait he seemed to get very nervous. He then sprang to his feet and disappeared into the grass, from the same place from which he had appeared. Alister then seemed to understand what was happening and motioned for me to get snugged into my .375HH.


He seemed to just appear from nowhere as if he just simply materialized. It was him, he was HUGE his body was two of the younger male and his mane was long and black and seemed to go all the way down to his formidable feet. The hair on his back was also long and seemed to fade from black to ginger and continued well back behind his muscular shoulders. I knew without any coaching this was what I had come to Africa for. For this moment in time as though all proceeding events in my life brought me to here, to Zambia, the Luangwa Valley, this GMA, this professional hunter, even this tree. My heart was pounding beyond my ability to explain I even think I could feel Alister’s heart pounding. This beast of a lion now stood directly beneath the bait just starring up at it not offering a shot. He then fed, I was warned not to take a shot at a lion on bait. My heart started to calm and I started to feel as though I could in fact do this. This magnificent lion now came down off the bait and offered me a slightly quartering frontal shot which I took. The report of the rifle went unheard and unfelt, the now hit lion started to roar and jump and flip. This sort of roaring at 25 yards can only be explained as completely primal and vicious; it literally made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I was now a lion hunter. After the lion departed, the truck arrived and Alister asked me how I felt about the shot. I remembered my sight picture in detail and I poked Ali in the chest with my index finger where I had aimed at the lion. I guess I was filled with adrenaline because as I poked him I rocked him rather hard. He then lit a smoke and just smiled. The silence was deafening, man was my mouth ever dry and my hands were shaking uncontrollably. “Normal” Ali reassured me. Now we were on the ground below the bait. The two of us with Lemick, John and Fredrick were looking for blood and Mettie sat in the truck. We found only sparse amounts of blood and couldn’t really even be sure of which direction he departed. It was now completely dark with a pissed off wounded lion and 2600 square kilometers of some of the thickest bush I had seen anywhere on this continent.


Peter Capstick wrote extensively about following up wounded lions in the long grass but reading about it and living it are polar from one another. This would prove to be a life altering experience. I could only hope that this is what drew me to Peter Hankins grave and some divine guidance would keep us from getting scratched and with a little luck, even collect our prize.


We examined the ground with flashlights and headlamps for about 45 minutes. We looked for blood, hair or even the grass folded over to show a direction of travel with no results. As we retraced our steps we even had a lioness feeding on the bait with us not 30 feet from the bait, she just hung on the bait completely off the ground swinging as she feed. After a couple hours Alister called it off fearing someone’s getting scratched doing this. That night in my bunk was murderous. As I stared up at the mosquito netting replaying the day’s events in my mind hoping to find a way that the lion lay dead somewhere we just didn’t look. These are the times that test a hunter’s soul. Not knowing.


As the morning light came Johnny DuPlooy showed up with his client to offer a couple hours of help. His client who’s name has long since been lost in my many safari acquaintances, but I remember he had a damn hairpiece and was a bit of an ass, he wore all brand new Cabela’s safari gear and he looked “store bought” to me. This was his first safari to Africa and the fact that he chose to hunt three of the big five, first hunt out of the gate I thought was odd. Why not hunt an Impala or two to start things off? We had coffee and toast then were off to see what we could see. We started at the bait but it seemed to me that we had disturbed the area badly and what little blood we had the previous evening was now gone. We searched a couple of hours doing sweeps through the brush. Nothing. At about 10:30 Johnny and his bald client wished us god speed and we were left alone to find this brute of a lion. We were now convinced the shot was not fatal and we had a wounded cat. I had switched rifles this morning to my .470 double, feeling that the open sights and heavy bullets might just give me an edge if he came. This was as stressful situation as I had ever been in and couldn’t help but hope that when he comes he comes for somebody armed and not one of the trackers. They seemed to have no fear and approached every thicket with courage and conviction. I found it odd that at times I lost my concentration, having to snap myself back to the realization that a momentary loss of focus could cost me or someone else dearly. As we cleared a very nasty thicket and entered a relatively open area, then as we closed in on another one of Africa’s nastiest offerings a lioness exploded from the cover, woofing as she came with clarity of purpose I will never forget. The two of us made an eerie eye contact as she made her intentions clear. Her piercing, cold doll like eyes seemed to burn holes deep into my soul. She was now at about 10 yards, as motion slowed. I raised my double and aimed center mass, Alister was also ready when I somehow heard him order for me not to kill her but to shoot below her. Just as I was ready to squeeze the trigger she stopped her advances and retreated short of needing gunfire. Ali then looked directly into my eyes and stated “It is now 95% he will come” be prepared Bwana. At that point the tracker that was to my extreme left, John yelled out in Nyanja (the local language) that he had just seen the male run out of the back of the same cover the lioness had charged from. With that Alister and I ran with reckless abandon hoping to engage the lion. We saw him at the same time he was running in the open quartering away at about 125 yards. We both shot, me with my .470 and Alister with his Trevor Proctor custom .458 lott bolt rifle, we both hit him high in the left rear leg which tumbled the lion. I then fired my second barrel and in slow motion recall hitting a mopane of about 2” diameter, it was amazing it exploded as if it were TNT, it was surreal and the clarity of detail will never leave my mind. None the less we now felt we were close to closing the deal. The lion now disappeared down into a korango of about 20 feet across and maybe 6 feet deep, we followed hoping to engage. As we ran down one side of the korango, across the bottom and up the other side I saw Ali raise his rifle, I too now see the beast running in dense bush from our right to our left, we are both now tracking him with our rifles and he is at about 20 yards. I clearly remember seeing his incredibly muscular shoulders ripple with every bound, he is god’s mightiest creation of hair, teeth and claws, this was his home and we are the intruders with devious intentions. We could both see at which point this tabby changed his intentions from flight to fight. This was now to be his waterloo and possibly ours. I felt no fear just duty, as soldiers in a firefight might feel, it will end in some manner and maybe not one of our choosing. A man cannot predict how he will act in a situation like this he just cannot. The lion then hit the brakes raising a cloud of dust, made a 90 degree turn and I was actually able to see his eyes choose at whom the fury of his charge was to be aimed, it was to be Ali. He was now coming directly at us both with the ferocious, stomach turning woofing that can only come from a charging lion and nothing else. As the bush parted the lion was close, Alister knelt before me on one knee, swung his rifle and fired, crumpling the lion, I followed with .500 grains of my own settling things. Alister then requested me to pay the insurance. The lion lay dead at 12 feet.


At that point slow motion stopped and my life went back to real time. We just stood there shaking, Alister then rested his rifle against the tree the lion lay dead beneath as did I. We then hugged each other in victory and survival. The trackers were slapping us on the back as if it were just another day in the office. They then started to sing Chipolopolo; the emotion of the moment now overwhelmed me. This was now the watershed moment of my life that would forever change this man, for “Following a wounded lion into heavy cover is a grim pursuit in which very few men will ever engage”.


My first shot from the previous day due to the high shot angle was through the long mane hair and hit the lion in the left rear foot. The two running shots were not immediately fatal. The killing shots: Alisters was in the chest directly below the chin, mine was in the mane hair in the side of the neck. My next lion I assure you will not be shot in the foot.


After we dragged the lion out of the thick cover in which he was entangled, brought him out in the open for proper pictures. I just sat there not sure of how I felt, I wanted to absorb it all to be remembered for eternity, the sweet stench of the beast before me, the smell of the cordite, the feel of the double rifles hot barrels and the fine Turkish walnut stock. Even the color of the newsprint from which John was rolling a smoke was a desired memory. The event created a bond between Alister and I that was not there until that point in time. We in a way became brothers or even closer. That day in Africa’s bush we found and faced the king of beasts in his domain on his terms and we prevailed. We acted almost as one that day in the bush of Zambia’s mighty Luangwa valley. I had made a friend for life and will cherish this odd feeling for eternity.

Very nicely written.

Beautiful lion but it's got a hole in it and looks like it's been leaking.

Way to go Steve. I took creative writing classes in college, as electives. I just liked to write, but to tackle a book, what an adventure, takes some courage.
How many chapters do you have left to write before your looking to publish?

An exciting tale,well told.Nothing like the fitful nighttime hours prior to following-up a shot but not retrieved cat. High drama well worth the price of admission. Jim

Nice piece...I like it

AH,
Its actually finished. I sent it to Safari Press, it was rejected.

The publisher was very constructive in his rejection, I'm an unknown in a poor economy. There are other publishers, then there's always self publishing.

There are 17 chapters, Fairgame and I are most likely adding some freelance stuff by some well known PH's and of course the master himself (Andrew) is contributing much as well. Its 99% dangerous game with some royal antelope hunting mixed in.

As you say it was a herculean effort.

Steve

Note that much of this is in draft format and still requires much editing and better imagery. I did suggest to Steve that he should seek the wealth of information, experiences, images etc that has been accrued on AR?

Unfortunately I have not been able to give this project as much attention as I would like and they maybe others that can point Steve in the right direction?

The book is more interesting contemporary anecdotes from both client and PH alike.

After all everyone likes short stories, don't they?

I suggest you retain an agent.

That's the best, most exciting hunt I've read in many years. Far above anything I used to read in Petersen's Hunting. Hell, get Sports Afield to serialize it if nothing else! Great writing, real hunting. Congratulations.

steve and andrew

please push this forward as much as you can, i would love to read the whole book. i will see if i can get the name of the company that publishes my mother in laws writings, if she can get published anybody can
i agree that it would be a great thing to make it a serie in one of the mag's, but it should wait untill the book is published and have run its course for a few years.

best

peter

Great story Steve. I had heard bits and pieces of it from Alister and Dustin Neal, but not in the detail you put into this. I can just hear Alister saying "It is now 95% he will come, be prepared Bwana".

Good luck with the publishing. Have you thought about trying it in a magazine first?

Greg,
Thanks, I did think about magazines. This project got life ironically from a magazine article I did for "Safari" magazine. Fairgame, who I had hunted with several times at that point sent me an email telling me "nice story, now go write a book" so 4 years later its complete. The problem with magazines is editing, they completely changed the story and removed entire days and important people.

One Chapter is still being polished a bit, it's about a young woman that got her PHD on leopards, there in Chanjuzi, many readers have most likely met her in Alisters camp over the years. I was there 5 years in a row and so was she. She had an "event" with an enraged jumbo in 2008 that kabobbed her Rover. She lives in Germany so its difficult to get it all together.

I think there is light at the end here. Hope it's not a train.

Steve

Very nice
I would love to read more!

Outstanding story. With the exception of the tracking and the charge, it matched my lion Hunt with Alister to a "T". Thanks for the memories!

quote:

Originally posted by SBT:
Outstanding story. With the exception of the tracking and the charge, it matched my lion Hunt with Alister to a "T". Thanks for the memories!

Have you ever seen a more useless tracker than Mettie?

NICE READ. I'D BUY THE BOOK.

Great reading. Too bad that Saeed doesn't start a publishing co. I can see it now. . . .AR Magazine, AR Books. . . . .

quote:

Great reading. Too bad that Saeed doesn't start a publishing co. I can see it now. . . .AR Magazine, AR Books. . . . .

Now there's an idea! How about it? Man what a legacy........

I'll gladly be the first customer.

GREAT STORY BY THE WAY!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks.


.

Good story. Well written.

I enjoyed every word of it!!! Well Done!

Really enjoyed that. Thanks for sharing.

Any more pictures of that Lion Steve? Different angle etc?

I have read this story many times and it always gives me a thrill, knowing the players makes it even more special. Well done.

now this is the kind of contribution to this website really means something!!!!!!!!!!!! great job.

quote:

Originally posted by fairgame:
Any more pictures of that Lion Steve? Different angle etc?

Christ Andrew, I almost got one from inside.

quote:

Originally posted by Nganga:

quote:

Originally posted by fairgame:
Any more pictures of that Lion Steve? Different angle etc?

Christ Andrew, I almost got one from inside.

I heard it from Alister who is probably a better story teller than you. Especially after a couple of beers.

Welcome to the 'Charge Club'

quote:

Originally posted by fairgame:

quote:

Originally posted by Nganga:

quote:

Originally posted by fairgame:
Any more pictures of that Lion Steve? Different angle etc?

Christ Andrew, I almost got one from inside.

I heard it from Alister who is probably a better story teller than you. Especially after a couple of beers.

Welcome to the 'Charge Club'

Just a couple eh?

Andrew,

Whilst I'm in Alaska fishing all next week, try and guess who painted this.



Steve

Steve,

A very enjoyable read.

We're just now converting my ebook into hard copy format and although we've had a few offers of publication, the standard offer is (IMO) nowhere near good enough for the effort one puts in.

We've decided to use www.lulu.com or a similar company and you might like to take a look at their product.

Marketing can be done in a variety of ways and feel free to email me at shakari3@mweb.co.za.

You might also like to ask Bill Quimby for advice as he's been involved in the business for umpteen years and he knows ALL the wrinkles!

Fishing in Alaska and you bought a Rembrandt.

What bloody recession would that be Steve?

Was that paint by numbers?

Cane Rat
It's not me. Keep trying
S

Well written and a sod of a lion. I've hunted with Terry Van Rooyen in the same camp while Alistar guided my friend. They are consumate professionals but Alistar is a bit more, shall we say, mischieveous!

BTW, couldn't help but notice the names and words in your story... Nyanga, Chipolopolo and the two separate names John and Frederick spelled exactly the same as our own John Frederick who posts here. Anything else you want to confess?

Regarding who the painter is:

Hmmmm.....let me see - loose style, bold and colorful - I'm guessing.......Andrew Baldry (Fairgame)!

You know, the last time I guessed the right answer on one of these AR quizzes (the one about the difference between Indian leopard photos and African leopard photos) I didn't get a prize. I'll bet I don't get a prize this time either.

Man, you guys are cheap!!!

Anyway, if I'm right, VERY nice painting Fairgame, and this is coming from someone who paints.

quote:

Originally posted by Molepolole:
Regarding who the painter is:

Hmmmm.....let me see - loose style, bold and colorful - I'm guessing.......Andrew Baldry (Fairgame)!

You know, the last time I guessed the right answer on one of these AR quizzes (the one about the difference between Indian leopard photos and African leopard photos) I didn't get a prize. I'll bet I don't get a prize this time either.

Man, you guys are cheap!!!

Anyway, if I'm right, VERY nice painting Fairgame, and this is coming from someone who paints.

Thanks and Steve is using it as an illustration for his book.

You win a free full bag safari in my private concession but it excludes trophy fees and daily rates.

quote:

Originally posted by bwanamrm:
Well written and a sod of a lion. I've hunted with Terry Van Rooyen in the same camp while Alistar guided my friend. They are consumate professionals but Alistar is a bit more, shall we say, mischieveous!

BTW, couldn't help but notice the names and words in your story... Nyanga, Chipolopolo and the two separate names John and Frederick spelled exactly the same as our own John Frederick who posts here. Anything else you want to confess?

Pure coincidence old boy, I'm John Frederick, or at least I think I am and have never met the other two gentleman mentioned in said article.

quote:

Pure coincidence old boy, I'm John Frederick, or at least I think I am and have never met the other two gentleman mentioned in said article.

Cool... the way things have been around here lately you never know!

Just out of interest who are you bwanamrm?

I am Andrew Baldry pleased to meet you.

Andrew Baldry