‘Hateful is the dark blue sky, vaulted o’er the dark blue seas.’ Thus moaned Mr Tennyson’s lotus-eaters. They were the first tax evaders and what a miserable bunch they were!

Their cry has occasionally been taken up by their descendants, those British expatriates who sit all the year round by a swimming pool in the West Indies and yawn and yearn for a November fog. I cannot seriously believe that these sybarites long to bring upon themselves the miseries of bronchitis. Continue reading Season’s Gratings →