I read Tim Severin’s obituary yesterday. One of his earliest expeditions was crossing the Atlantic in a currach made of wood and animal hides. When he made an unscheduled stop at Iceland almost all his crew deserted him. Severin had a reputation as a less kindly version of Captain Bligh.
An Expotition
I was in the rear carriage of a District Line train returning from work one evening in 1992. The rear carriage is the fashionable one from which residents living near Gloucester Road and Barons Court debauch. On this occasion I saw the father of my godson. Frankly, I eyed him with some apprehension as I… Continue reading An Expotition