Cromwell would have approved of the latter.The Oliver Cromwell industry thrives here. Locals tend to describe this as "not quite meeting in the middle". Further along is the Old River Bridge on the Roman road between Huntingdon and Godmanchester. The 26-mile Great Ouse Valley path, detailed by the local authority in a thoughtful seven- stage plan, winds its way around Huntingdon, encompassing some interesting bridges.Walking south to north, just outside Huntingdon, you come across a bridge that looks as if it has been lifted off a Willow Pattern plate. Parking in the town centre of the Prime Minister's constituency, my companion cried "50p for 24 hours. Aren't Conservative authorities wonderful!" Walkers are also treated with consideration.

And indeed there is a Dorothy L Sayers car trail which starts at Bluntisham, where she lived as a child, just north of Huntingdon. Perhaps this is one reason why road users are treated with respect in Huntingdon. Ancient churches dominate a landscape which the novelist Dorothy L Sayers described as resembling a chessboard. This is Fen country, which is not necessarily an excuse for describing its politicians, past and present, as "wet". Its political heritage includes Oliver Cromwell as well as John Major. Its first Earl, one William Clinton (possibly known as Bill to his mates), took office in 1339.

For more information contact theNamibian Tourist Office, 6 Chandos Street, LondonW1M OLQ (0171-636 2924).. Huntingdon is a place of wartime memories, passionate regionalism, rural regeneration and Stilton cheese. "Take nothing but pleasure and leave nothing but footprints in the desert," the Namibians say. Apart from a few torn clothes, we did just that - and loved every minute of it.The only flights betweenLondon and Windhoek are operated by Air Namibia (0181-944 6181).The current lowest fareis pounds 651 (including taxes)for a minimum stay of 10 days, maximum fourmonths.

Then we crossed a plain of red-brown quartzite where, in the sandy gaps - startled into life by the unseasonable rains - the pointed, curled leaves of a bulb were sprouting.Towards the head of the valley, we came across strange, stunted plants adapting to desert life, and camel thorn trees, which seemed to reach out for our clothes with their long, grey, skeletal spikes. At sunrise the cliffs turned to gold and, gloriously out of place in this usually parched wilderness, a cormorant dived for catfish in the pool.We began our return journey over a plateau of black limestone eroded into strange dimples that looked like egg trays for a dolls' house. As the overhanging precipices were beginning to glow dusky pink in the sunset, Lex and Loes unlocked a stone box and took out cooking equipment, sleeping bags and tents, which we each set up on the sand in the position we thought would give us the best morning view.We were not disappointed. We saw the tiny, twin hoof prints, no bigger than a pair of 5p coins, of the klipspringer and skirted its latrines - a klipspringer and his mate may use the same place to defecate over many years.