The Potion
When we were little, my brother and I dreaded falling ill. Not because of the fever that gave us chills or the cough that made our ribs hurt or a million visits to the bathroom that left us dehydrated. … Read the rest
From Jersey, Channel Islands, to the African Continent
My father Richard Durell married Edmée Gruchy in Jersey on 21 December in 1934.
After marriage, Richard accepted a job in the Bank of British West Africa as he had previously been in banking in London. He was able to
The Journey
The beginning was difficult-I was in a traffic jam going to the airport! Would I get to the check-in in time? I began to get agitated and restless, and the clouds which had been threatening all the way, began to
The Lost Innocence Of The Nagas
My posting, after being commissioned in to the Corps of Engineers of the Indian Army in 1967 following the Young Officers’ course, was to Nagaland[note]A province in the northeast India, bordering Myanmar[/note].
The Nagas agreed to join
Gin-and-Ice, No Lime
Ever tried drinking gin by itself, no lime or tonic? If you haven’t, don’t. It’s sheer hell. Burns the gullet on the way down, then on the way up, and makes you a confirmed hater of men in general and
Gold Rush
There had never been such excitement in the house. It was a hard-working and unforgiving life on this small Humberside[note]In the north west of England, bordering Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire[/note] farm with everyone over the age of five expected
The Macready Mystery
Throughout my mother’s life, she believed implicitly that she was a descendant of William Charles Macready (1793-1873), the great Shakespearian actor[note]William Charles Macready, also a manager and a famous diarist, was a leading figure in the development of acting
Crocodiles and Education
When I look back on my life I begin to wonder if I have achieved anything of consequence. To my sorrow I had borne no children but I had enjoyed a very fulfilling life in other ways, particularly in the
1984: Thirty-Two Years Later
The passage of time has lent a surreal hue to the ghastly spine-chilling memories of 1984.
Those who survived to tell the tale, wonder if that blood-curling violence truly played out. Or is it just a recurring nightmare?
The scars