The penguins were just brilliant. To think that every house had a big penguin pot to boil them up in.
We didn’t actually storm the beach. Instead we bounced up to a jetty where a pleasant sailor helped us off as the lifeboat pitched about. A jaunty big sign bade us welcome to the Falklands. We had already noted the bright little town of Port Stanley. It seemed to have been built of gaily painted corrugated iron.
Without more ado we set off into the hinterland to see battlefields and discover penguins.
The large green peat fields stretched out on all sides towards the distant mountains. As far as I could see it had all been a battlefield. There were little white crosses here and there marking where soldiers had been blown to bits by lumps of metal travelling at high velocity. We passed a sign saying MINEFIELD. The jolly islander explained that there were still ten trillion landmines strewn all over the island. I reminded myself to limit my…
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