If there is one thing destined to make a man feel totally hamstrung, inadequate and foolish it is not being able to express himself clearly. Nowhere is this exposed more vividly than when trying to communicate in a foreign language where one is often reduced to a frightful child-like level of sentence construction. Continue reading
Browsing the English titles on the bookshelf I pulled out a tattered copy of Hemingway’s ‘Green Hills of Africa’. Resting the book on the shelf I opened it near the beginning and was greeted with the sight of a small brown scorpion advancing up the margin near the spine. Continue reading
The rising sun cast long shadows across the cool sand. I stood on the same stretch of beach where the evening before I had watched the release of several hundred Olive Ridley baby turtles and looked west out over the Pacific. Continue reading
Watching the lightning bugs flicker outside the window I realised that after 8-months on the road we had only 8-nights left before we would board a plane and head for England and home. Except this time it is different because our ‘home’ is no longer ours to return to, it is rented and will remain so almost indefinitely.
I was 80-years too late, but then I suspect I knew I always would be. The canning factories are still there but they have been dressed up in bright new paint and fancy lettering.
I had studied The Devil’s Acre Almanac carefully and was well pleased with the look of the restorative libation that was placed before me on a small cast iron table.
My Kosher Salami Omelette with Hash Browns and Siberian Dark Rye Bread was set in front of me on the counter quickly followed by a big mug of steaming filter coffee. Life was taking a big turn for the better.
My neck aches this evening, but on the plus side I have some excellent remedial treatment in the form of a bottle of General Sherman IPA from the craft ale folk at Tioga-Sequoia Brewery in Fresno, California.
“Awesome!” said my waitress and spun on her heels to fetch my double-shot Guatemalan Americano with half-water and a side of steamed milk.
Sharks get a bad press, a very bad press. More people each year are killed by dogs in the United States alone than are killed by sharks worldwide. So why do these highly evolved creatures evoke such feelings of dread and fear?
Ashby's World 