Saddened by the BBC’s news that many parents struggle with literacy – which effects their ability to read bedtime stories (as well as their employment prospects) to their kids – I was reminded today of one of my favourites. I first heard it from a tape recording – another way to soothe the little chimps to sleep.
Here’s the introduction. To read (ok, that may be ironic) on just click the link at the end.
Driving across the East Anglian fenland today is an experience of unremitting boredom. Stuck behind a row of lorries following a tractor full of sugar beet at a steady 15 miles an hour the tedious flat, windswept, featureless fields provide no relief for the frustrated traveller.
But four hundred years ago it was very different.
To venture into southern Britain’s last great wilderness, without a local guide, meant confusion, terror and even death. Travellers who did survive emerged with terrifying tales of bottomless bogs, murky mires, spectral creatures and millions of malarial mosquitoes.
One who did know the way was Mucky Porter, who made his millions as a result of safely conveying King Charles 1st from Norfolk to Huntingdon. This is his story…