Right then, settle in for a cuppa and let me tell you about a trip that’s frankly a bit ridiculous, but in the most wonderful way. We’re talking about a seven day ultra luxe fly in safari, hopping from the Okavango Delta to Victoria Falls. Now, if your idea of camping involves a five star hotel and a butler who can identify a wildebeest by its sigh, this is your jam. Forget bumpy Land Rovers and lukewarm tea. This is the crème de la crème. We begin in the Okavango Delta, that shimmering inland sea in Botswana. You’ll be whisked from tiny airstrip to tiny airstrip in, wait for it, a light aircraft. Yes, actual small planes. Suddenly, your luggage appears as if by magic at a lodge that looks like it was airlifted from a glossy magazine. Think thatched roofs so high they could double as cloud catchers, private plunge pools overlooking waterholes where elephants might just wander past your sun lounger, and staff who anticipate your need for a gin and tonic before you even realise you’re thirsty. Mornings are for game drives, but not the packed sardine kind. Here, it’s just you, your impossibly chic guide, and maybe a handful of other like minded individuals who’ve clearly also mastered the art of not roughing it. You’ll be sipping champagne as the sun paints the sky pink and gold, while lions do their majestic lion thing in the distance. The sheer abundance of wildlife is mind boggling. We saw more giraffes than I’ve seen in a lifetime, all looking rather elegant, as if they’re attending a very exclusive garden party. And the birds! My goodness, the birds. I’m fairly sure one particularly flamboyant parrot winked at me. Or perhaps I’d had one too many sundowners. Afternoons are for pure, unadulterated pampering. Perhaps a spa treatment overlooking the savanna, followed by a gourmet meal cooked by a chef who clearly believes food is an art form. You’ll dine under a blanket of stars so dense it looks like someone’s thrown a handful of diamonds at the sky. It’s the kind of place where you start questioning your life choices, like why you haven’t always been doing this. Seriously, the most strenuous activity might be deciding which ridiculously comfortable slipper to wear. Then, we hop again. This time, to the thunderous roar of Victoria Falls. We fly in, naturally, and land near a ridiculously opulent hotel. Forget queuing for tickets; you’re escorted to the best viewing spots, where the spray from the falls might just dampen your designer shirt. It’s nature’s most dramatic shower, and frankly, a lot more impressive than anything my bathroom has to offer. You can opt for helicopter rides over the falls, which, let me tell you, is like God’s own IMAX screen. Evenings here involve cocktails with a view of the mist, followed by more exceptional dining. It’s a whirlwind of natural wonder and man made indulgence. You leave feeling utterly spoiled, slightly bewildered by the sheer extravagance, and already plotting your return. It’s not just a holiday; it’s an experience that redefines the word “treat.” My bank account may have wept a little, but my soul? Absolutely singing. And frankly, if you can swing it, so should yours.