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E:11/12 luxurious four-night break for two in Madeira
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Snidely
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http://travel.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/travel/where_was_i/article1271593.ece
Win a luxurious four-night break for two in Madeira, as guests of EasyJet Holidays
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Perishing puzzle compilers: it’s cold. A few squillion years ago, much around here would have been deep sea; it must have been warmer, anyhow. Nor is it solely the climate that has changed: a little later, a geologically cataclysmic event made its mark, while, today, the ocean has been replaced by hills. Hoping to view the highest peak in the range and take in one of the local sights, I drive west-southwest towards a town. In so doing, I pass a ruined 13th-century castle, once owned by an earl (born circa 1536), a queen’s third husband; more recently, it belonged to a prime minister (also foreign secretary, 1916-19), born in a hamlet a tad southeast. The town, meanwhile, is 3½ miles beyond the castle, and was the birthplace, in 1514, of a religious reformer – co-author of The First Book of Discipline. There, in penetrating drizzle, I take a wander – keen to find its parish church, reputedly the country’s largest.
Later, back at the car, I check my bearings. Two miles north-northeast, a second village, named after a Saxon king who fought there in a (possibly mythical) battle. More certainly, 5½ miles southeast, a Cistercian abbey. Dating from 1948 (but originating as a 12th-century nunnery), it is the only one in the country. But my thoughts have wandered: How to view that peak? The answer: first, drive south. Thus, 4½ miles later, I reach a third village, the birthplace of the only clergyman to sign the Declaration of Independence. Here, I turn southeast.
Bad move: as the road narrows and steepens, the drizzle metamorphoses into a curtain of mist. I halt. Three miles through there is the hill – 1,755ft high. Realising there is little chance of seeing it, I pick my way through the fug and return to the third village. There, I devour a crusty roll and my flask of soup before despondently setting off southwest, threading my way along the narrow lanes.
<!--#include file="m63-article-related-attachements.html"--> Which is when something strange occurs: the mist lifts in almost an instant, and the sun starts to soothe the chilled air. And, surely, through there in all its glory, the range’s second-highest hill, at 1,729ft. Oh well: second best. Not something I am used to, but mightily impressive for all that.
The competition
1 In which hamlet was the prime minister born?
2 What is the name of the 1,729ft hill?
Win a luxurious four-night break for two in Madeira, as guests of EasyJet Holidays
<!-- END: Module - Main Heading --><!--CMA user Call Diffrenet Variation Of Image --><!-- BEGIN: Module - M24 Article Headline with portrait image (b) --><script type="text/javascript" src="http://travel.timesonline.co.uk/tol/js/m24-image-browser.js"></script><script type="text/javascript" src="http://travel.timesonline.co.uk/tol/js/tol.js"></script><script language="javascript" type="text/javascript"> /* Global variables that are used for "image browsing". Used on article pages to rotate the images of a story. */ var sImageBrowserImagePath = ''; var aArticleImages = new Array(); var aImageDescriptions = new Array(); var aImageEnlargeLink = new Array(); var aImageEnlargePopupWidth = '500'; var aImageEnlargePopupHeight = '500'; var aImagePhotographer = new Array(); var nSelectedArticleImage = 0; var i=0; var aImageAltText= new Array(); </script><div><!-- BEGIN: Portrait image --><!-- Tip: This here with the id "dynamic-image-navigation" is used so that the innerHTML can be written to by the JS call below. -->
<!-- END: Portrait image --><!-- Print Author name from By Line associated with the article -->
<!-- END: Module - Module - M24 Article Headline with portrait image (b) --><!-- Article Copy module --><!-- BEGIN: Module - Main Article --><!-- Check the Article Type and display accordingly--> <!-- Print Author image associated with the Author--><!-- Print the body of the article--><!-- Pagination -->Read the article below and answer the questions at the end of the text. Clues to the answers can be found within the text:
Perishing puzzle compilers: it’s cold. A few squillion years ago, much around here would have been deep sea; it must have been warmer, anyhow. Nor is it solely the climate that has changed: a little later, a geologically cataclysmic event made its mark, while, today, the ocean has been replaced by hills. Hoping to view the highest peak in the range and take in one of the local sights, I drive west-southwest towards a town. In so doing, I pass a ruined 13th-century castle, once owned by an earl (born circa 1536), a queen’s third husband; more recently, it belonged to a prime minister (also foreign secretary, 1916-19), born in a hamlet a tad southeast. The town, meanwhile, is 3½ miles beyond the castle, and was the birthplace, in 1514, of a religious reformer – co-author of The First Book of Discipline. There, in penetrating drizzle, I take a wander – keen to find its parish church, reputedly the country’s largest.
Later, back at the car, I check my bearings. Two miles north-northeast, a second village, named after a Saxon king who fought there in a (possibly mythical) battle. More certainly, 5½ miles southeast, a Cistercian abbey. Dating from 1948 (but originating as a 12th-century nunnery), it is the only one in the country. But my thoughts have wandered: How to view that peak? The answer: first, drive south. Thus, 4½ miles later, I reach a third village, the birthplace of the only clergyman to sign the Declaration of Independence. Here, I turn southeast.
Bad move: as the road narrows and steepens, the drizzle metamorphoses into a curtain of mist. I halt. Three miles through there is the hill – 1,755ft high. Realising there is little chance of seeing it, I pick my way through the fug and return to the third village. There, I devour a crusty roll and my flask of soup before despondently setting off southwest, threading my way along the narrow lanes.
<!--#include file="m63-article-related-attachements.html"--> Which is when something strange occurs: the mist lifts in almost an instant, and the sun starts to soothe the chilled air. And, surely, through there in all its glory, the range’s second-highest hill, at 1,729ft. Oh well: second best. Not something I am used to, but mightily impressive for all that.
The competition
1 In which hamlet was the prime minister born?
2 What is the name of the 1,729ft hill?
- I can never do theses but I'm sure someone will give us the answers.
[FONT="]:beer:[/FONT]Any war that lasts for longer than five years should be declared a draw.[FONT="]:beer:[/FONT]
0
Comments
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[FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif][FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]1. Whittingehame
2. Lammer Law
I think!
[/FONT][/FONT]0
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