Word: englishmen
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...were joined in 1707 under Queen Anne but are now in a distinctly unequal relationship. The Scots still sardonically call themselves England's "last colony," and their irritations range from their country's being described as one of England's "regions" to the hordes of wealthy Englishmen-dubbed "white settlers" by Scots-seeking cheap summer homes in the Highlands...
...dead weight of England's colossal problems. "England is bankrupt and has nowhere to go," says Robert Curran, 50, a recently returned émigré. "Our whisky alone could float the government." Many Scots resent the fact that they hold few influential positions in the south, while Englishmen control many of the best jobs in Scotland. Despite net emigration losses totaling nearly 20% of the population since the mid-'50s, the Scots suffer an unemployment rate twice as high as, and a standard of living 12% lower than, the rest of Britain. Despite the idyllic beauty of much...
Perhaps because its sun-blasted emptiness is so different from their cozily crowded, fog-shrouded island, the trackless desert has always attracted Englishmen. A straight line leads from Sir Richard Burton crossing the Arabian desert in 1853 and Lawrence of Arabia down to Geoffrey Moorhouse. Burton had a simple thirst for the exotic. Lawrence was a complex mystic. Moorhouse, who left Nouakchott, Mauritania, in October of 1972 heading east into the Sahara, is a fortyish ex-journalist. In challenging the desert, he was intent on confronting his own fears and what he took to be personal cowardice...
...door, waving to their friends. After my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I saw my friends sitting at a table near the back corner. I was late, and, having decided not to wait for me, they were already on their dessert. I sat down next to the Englishmen, who was halfway through his banana split. Opposite him was a German who looked up as I sat down, smiled at me, and then went back to concentrate on his hot fudge sundae. And, across from me, was a fellow American, who was smoking cheap Bolivian cigarettes in between sips...
...filling his pipe with the noxious tobacco he kept in a slipper upon the mantel. I sat by the gasogene, trying to ignore the chill worrying my old Jezail bullet wound. It was not a very keen period for the world's first consulting detective; like all Englishmen, he only worked a three-day week. We could get little fuel, and warmed ourselves by burning pictures of coal from newsmagazine accounts of the miners' strike. Suddenly there came peremptory knocking at the door of our humble rooms at 221-B Baker Street. In strode an American visitor, whom...