Our 20th wedding anniversary is in September and we’d like a city break. Venice is pricey and we don’t fancy Paris. Is there an undiscovered UK town or city we should considerA reader's question submitted, and answered by other readers, in my morning paper. They really shouldn't make it so easy for me ...
From a journal found floating near London Bridge. 1772.May 13th. Their Lordships of the Admiralty, having commanded me to search for places as yet unknown, I gathered my expedition in London and prepared to venture upon the waters. We know so little of the country into which we are bound. What may we find when we sail east of Richmond?
May 14th. We departed from the landing stage at Whitehall by boat. A brisk easterly assisted the oarsmen and we made camp near Hampton Court. Surely some magnificent ancient monarch lived in this great palace? We may never know.
May 15th. Departed at dawn. There are no maps of the river beyond this point. Much heartened to see the grand villas of the local chiefs at a place called Hen-Lee, as they call it in their barbarous tongue. Despatched Lt. Carter to treat with them.
Later: Carter rejoined us bearing a strange foodstuff that the natives gave him, a white spongy substance contained within a sac bearing mysterious printed letters. Dr. Armitage, our natural philosopher, studied it for some while and declared the first word thereon to be translatable as "Mother's" but the remainder eluded him. We carefully sampled this comestible, found it to be digestible though lacking in flavour, and have named it "doughfruit".
May 16th. Truly we are, by God's grace, entering unknown waters. A cluster of native houses to the north, set amidst towering reeds, we have named Reeding and claimed it for his majesty. Some tell of a fording place further west suitable for leading oxen across but surely this is mere rumour and legend. Armitage says we should nonetheless steer toward this mythical oxenford and so I have resolved.
May 18th. We can no longer understand the local dialect and must resort to sign language. The commonest symbol of the proud tribesmen is to wave two extended fingers at us - we offer all we pass this sign and it never fails to evoke a similar response.
May 20th. God, this is a dreadful place. We have found nothing to eat for a civilised Englishman, not a croissant nor latte to be had, only the awful doughfruit, though some of the natives do scorch it over a fire first and eat it still smoking greased with butter - we would sooner starve than submit to such barbarism. Carter says the men are unhappy to be so far from the known worlds and I begin to think we may fail in our mission.
May 24th. Confined by rain to our rough shelter by the banks. We can go no further. I commend our souls to God in the knowledge that we have at least done our duty. I shall entrust this journal to our last (empty) bottle of Chateau Latour '67 and hope the great river will bear it back to our people.
Captain Jas. Cork.