To those who say derogatory things about colonialism, I would say colonialism is a wonderful thing. It spread civilization to Africa. Before it they had no written language, no wheel as we know it, no schools, no hospitals, not even normal clothing.
Ian Smith, The Great Betrayal: The Memoirs of Ian Douglas Smith, Africa’s Most Controversial Leader (First published in June 1997)
Margaret Lockwood reading in her dressing room on the set of Hungry Hill (1947). Photo by Ian Smith. LIFE.
Daphne Du Maurier helped write the script of this adaptation of her best-selling novel. A full-blooded historical romance in the grand tradition of du Maurier’s Rebecca. Hungry Hill provides a plum role for Margaret Lockwood, who became one of the biggest stars of British films of the 1940s. 'Margaret Lockwood is luminous in this epic tale of love and greed…’ – The Times
POV! OH! Or before the beginning! Ugh! I can't choose! OK...I'm going to go with "POV" Can I pick the current WIP too or is that cheating?! I'd obviously choose Ashes but anything will be fine! :)
POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective
Mister Saunders liked trees…a lot. A lot more than Ian did, anyway. It wasn’t long into the nature lecture that Ian got bored and started looking around, and his eye caught on one of the chess boards set up on the pavement winding through the park.
“And over here, we have a rather common, but still fascinating specimen…”
Mister Saunders walked off toward another tree, identifying book in hand, and Ian watched him for a moment before shrugging and heading off in the opposite direction, toward the pavement. He had his rucksack with his snack and Daddy’s old chess set, the chipped, wooden one. Mummy didn’t let him play with the pretty one, she’d only showed it to him and said he could have it when he was older. But the wooden one worked just as well, and he concentrated as he carefully set the pieces up on the chess board.
He played with the pawns for a while, shuffling them around the board, but then got stuck. He frowned at the little horse, poking at it uncertainly for a moment. He looked up when he heard footsteps coming toward him, scared that it might be Mister Saunders already, but instead saw a tall, skinny man ambling toward him.
Ian looked down at the board again, then up at the man. “’Scuse me? Do you know how the horses move?”
The man stopped, glancing behind him for a second before looking back at Ian and tilting his head a little. “Knights move in an ‘L’.”
Ian looked back at the board, frowning. “Do they always move like that?”
“They have as long as I’ve been playing chess,” the man said with a shrug, tugging on one ear.
“That’s silly,” Ian decided, shaking his head. How were knights going to get anything done if the other side knew everything they could do?
“Well…” the man said slowly, walking over and sitting down across from him. “If the rules don’t make sense…change them.”
“Like how?” the boy asked suspiciously. Mummy said rules were there for a reason. Like the No Making Tea On My Own rule.
“Oh, there’s always a way,” the man said, reaching forward and rearranging the pieces with long fingers, putting them back to the starting positions. “I’m James, by the way. James Noble.”