Sometime in the late 1930s or early 40s, a newly minted Canadian schoolteacher by the name of Laurence J Peter saw a door sign in the august institution he was then employed at. It said: ‘Emergency Exit. Authorised Personnel Only’.
During an intermission in the lockdowns last year, for want of better entertainment, my wife and I moved house, swapping the seaside town we had long inhabited for a quieter place inland.
The MacLeods of Scotland have much in common with the Malayalees of Kannur. In fact, they are practically cousins.
One tragedy of being an academic, besides eventually succumbing to the corruption of one’s discourse with articulations such as one’s discourse, is that one is doomed to a life of perpetual panic.
Did you know Mevagissey did its fair share in making the world a cleaner place? It was this village that gave us Pears, the transparent bar of freshness that has lathered our parents for generations.
Those who know of Polperro know of it as an exceptionally pretty fishing village on the Cornish coast. That it is. But there is more to it.
It is always interesting to read the comments visitors leave at tourist destinations. They offer a window into the soul of the place, I believe—well, at least into the souls of those who
Thinking of Jesus, I climbed into the ferry at Fowey Town Quay, paid £2.50 to the captain, and set sail for the distant shores of Polruan which loomed out of green waters some 365 metres away.
