Desert!

Stranded in the Kalahari desert
Driving through Botswana's remote Kalahari desert, the last thing you want is for your vehicle to break down or worse still, as Jonah Fisher found out, to go up in flames.
I have just been for another inspection of our vehicle.
It does not get better with time. Nothing more can be saved.
A black pick-up has turned completely white. The tyres have gone, the windscreen has melted into the dashboard and the steering wheel now faces disconsolately towards the ground.
A few things that we had packed for the trip are still just about recognisable. For some reason I find it strangely satisfying to discover a jar of pickled gherkins.
The glass is badly warped, but it is still intact with the lid on. I open it to find about 20 perfectly-formed charcoal gherkins inside - a little reminder of the far-away comforts of home.
I am writing this under the patchy shade of one of the biggest trees in this part of the Kalahari. It is a desert of sand and shrubs - and this thorny bush is little more than 2m (6ft) high.
Gringo, my colleague, is lying in the partly melted tent that was our shelter last night, while Jumanda, our fixer, is sleeping, hat over his face, under another tree a few steps away.
Thankfully there is a breeze - keeping our small fire going and taking away some of the blazing heat of the midday sun.
Point to the very middle of Botswana on the map and you would not be far from where we are now. Stranded in the world's second largest game reserve.
Every sound, every buzz, every rustle of the tent distracts me from writing this. Everything seems like it just could be the noise of a vehicle in the distance coming to pick us up.
This trip was supposed to cover the long running conflict between the region's Khoi people - or Bushmen - and the government. Eight years ago the Bushmen were evicted from their land - not far from where I am now.
The government said it was because they could not provide schools and services in such a...