It happened during the winter of 1973, when evenings rang out stillborn from far across the weathered moorland, and snow fell hard and heavy and clung atop the peppered veins of nature__ tough bracken, all picture-postcard like.

There was an ocean above us, held in by a thin sac that might rupture and let down a flood at any second.

Who am I?" She whispered. Alex opened his mouth as if to correct her, but then he said, "You are my love.

It often horrified the English community that she spent her time with local farmers and horse traders, eccentrics and mystics, but she valued expertise over convention and had long believed if you were going to make discoveries in the world you must first quit your Englishness and open your eyes.

Let the game be ventured!

History is all around us and you, my lucky few, are living in some of it..