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|Elizabeth Jennings||Carcanet Press Ltd.|
Offer our pleasant field to them and let
Them learn the wisdom of every Summer sound.
Out in the Country in 2000
I shall not forget this Summer
With all its moods of water and of light,
With all its hasty sky and tunnelled roads.
I shan’t forget so many
Greens beyond green, the sage, the weed, the mournful
Evergreens. There’ve been such raids of light
Down side-roads which we drove down, through the neat
Important, tugging river.
I shan’t forget the sound
Of many birds excited by the breeze,
On hunting trips, the young out testing wings
And tumbling with the clouds
All this through side-roads, lanes of Oxfordshire
And Warwickshire, so ripe and clean and busy.
I took new vigour from the rush of winds
I drank the light and felt it in my veins.
I praise the countryside that’s still to find,
Waiting so patiently,
Giving, oddly, such strong peace of mind.
It was all scientific to start with,
The voice, male, young, not excited,
Not at first, that is.
But the radio voice became much warmer, much keener,
And the subject, Life Before Birth, became important.See All Chapters
|J. D. Biersdorfer||O'Reilly Media||ePub|
Email is the driving force that first motivated many people to invite computers and the Internet into their homes. The millions of electronic epistles that fly through the air between computers, smartphones, and handheld organizers have become an indispensable part of daily personal and professional life. No wonder the U.S. Postal Service has been losing business the past 15 years.
You may be surprised to know that the first email message was sent way back in 1971. Twenty years later, the World Wide Webthe interconnected system of electronic pages containing everything from academic papers on Johannes Gutenberg to video clips of dogs riding skateboardsbecame another reason to go out and buy a computer.
It's small wonder, then, that the netbook's ability to keep a near-constant connection to email and the Web makes them the hottest-selling computers on the market today. This chapter shows you how to get your netbook's email and web browser fired up and ready to go so you, too, won't miss a thing.See All Chapters
|Lonely Planet||Lonely Planet||ePub|
Beit Mery Brummana
North of Beirut
Bcharré the Qadisha Valley
South of Beirut
Its name is a byword for conflict but Lebanon, the original land of milk and honey, is a friendly, welcoming and culturally rich country with one slipper in the Arab world and one Jimmy Choo planted firmly in the West. It’s home to a bubbling-hot nightlife in Beirut, a notorious Hezbollah (Party of God) headquarters in backwater Baalbek, a fistful of flash ski resorts, and a dozen cramped and poverty-stricken Palestinian refugee camps.
Hike the Qadisha Valley and it’s hard to imagine that a conflict has ever existed here; wander past the pockmarked shell of Beirut’s Holiday Inn and you’ll wonder if there will ever be lasting peace. Lebanon is chaotic and fascinating – scarred by decades of civil war, invasions and terrorist attacks, yet blessed with serene mountain vistas, majestic ancient ruins and a people who are resilient, indomitable and renowned for their hospitality. Heed travel warnings but don’t miss the compelling and confusing wonders of Lebanon.See All Chapters
|Christie, John||Down East Books||ePub|
Let’s begin our story about the decade of the 1980s at Sugarloaf by explaining why it should be called “the best of times …the worst of times.” On the positive side, the decade saw the realization of two important dreams, both of which are key to the current prominence of Sugarloaf. First, the vision and foresight of Peter Webber, not to mention his personal affection for the game, resulted in the construction of what is now regarded as one of the country’s premier resort golf courses.And, second, his name is also linked inextricably with the other important development of the decade: the founding and early growth of a private college preparatory school to be called Carrabassett Valley Academy.It was clearly the best of times.
Odlin Thompson, Amos, and Stub remember tbe old days.
But up on the Mountain, despite major improvements in the uphill facilities, and seemingly rampant real estate development, dark clouds loomed over an increasingly dire financial situation. This was brought on by the combination of cost overruns in infrastructure development, and highly leveraged and expensive debt. The situation was exacerbated by discouraging results from skiing operations due to inadequate snowfall and insufficient snowmaking capacity, worsened further by customers who resisted the rising prices put in place to help support the balance sheet. Some (myself among them) would argue that a contributing factor was a major change in management focus—from ski operations to real estate and other ancillary activities—which deviated from the resort’s original raison d’être.See All Chapters
|Phil Lapworth||Karnac Books||ePub|
“And you can stuff your poxy therapy right up your fat arse!” screamed Holly, slamming the door behind her and stomping (as much as a bovver-booted stick insect could stomp) down the stairs. This seemed rather unfair. I would readily admit to a few extra pounds but my backside could hardly be described as fat. Nonetheless, I resolved again to exercise more, telling myself that this decision was entirely independent of Holly's remark. Thinking of whom, I realised I had not yet heard the front door shut. After a short silence, there came the sound of feet treading softly back upstairs. “I'm sorry,” she whispered as she peered tentatively round the door. “Can I come back?”
I noticed with some relief that she had reverted to her indigenous, privately educated accent instead of what she called her “street speak”, impressed as ever that she could go from County to Estuary at the drop of a hat (usually one she considered me to have dropped). “This is your session,” I replied evenly. “There are about twenty minutes left.” She sidled back to her seat on the sofa (the slight indentation giving only a vague indication that she'd been there before), closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, releasing them slowly. This was one of the self-regulation techniques we'd been practising recently. I was pleased she'd thought to do it now, though it would have been more useful before her outburst. She opened her eyes and cleared her forty-a-day throat. I guess she must have got to “10” (sometimes the old ways are the best) as she started to speak. “I couldn't help it,” she pleaded. “It was too much for me to hear what you said.”See All Chapters
Business & Economics