Category Archives: 12a UK

Press Pause

I am in a very dark place. And I don’t mean Britain in midwinter. 19th January marked six months since we left Liberia. SIX MONTHS. If you remember, the kids and I originally flew out at 24 hours’ notice to … Continue reading

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“I dream in French”

This has nothing to do with travelling Africa Clockwise, but as the promotion of satire is the Sampson family business, both in comedy and carnival, I take the duty very seriously, and must speak up. The day after Ruby[1] flew … Continue reading

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Global Warning

I have wrestled with this recalcitrant blog so many times, I’m beginning to feel bruised. So, apologies, but I’m just going to dump it on you voetstoots[1]. If I wait for inspiration to strike as to how to pull it … Continue reading

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Minus Tide

I’ve been feeling all at sea recently. My head has been all over the place. Here are some fragments of some thoughts I’ve been wrestling with. * * * I miss the truck. * * * Since arriving in UK … Continue reading

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Kernow Rocks

Now I know I said I wasn’t going to post as often, but this is just a quickie to correct any less-than-effervescent impressions evinced by my recent reflections about life in Sampson’s home town, the delightful village of St Newlyn … Continue reading

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Night Terrors

Oh, to be in Noordhoek Now that’s August’s there, And whoever wakes in Noordhoek Sees, some morning, unaware, That the arum lilies along the brook Around the common are back, come look, A forest of fairy vuvuzelas, wow! In Noordhoek … Continue reading

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