Are there no more great adventures to be had? Are there no more daring risks to be taken, or hazardous journeys on which to embark? It wasn't all that long ago when men of character and breeding would strike out into the unknown at the drop of a hat, equipped with little more than a pair of sturdy boots and a pipe full of tobacco.
Undeterred by danger, their only bastion against inclement weather would be a tartan blanket, and their only preparation for survival in treacherous and unknown country would be to take some sandwiches and a Swiss army knife. After all, when it came down to it, what more would a gentleman of courage need than his wits and a certain firmness of character?
A man like that would have thought nothing of facing the direst of perils for he knew that when encountering a monster with bright red eyes, flesh encrusted claws and a gob full of sharp teeth (Somewhat similar to her indoors), a firm voice and an unflinching manner would soon have the fearsome beast purring like a kitten and nuzzling against his shin.
But these days there is no more wilderness to explore or territory to chart. There are no more dark corners of the world to be illuminated. Where once ancient mapmakers would have inscribed the legend Here be Dragons, their modern counterparts are happily detailing the many public amenities and gift shops within easy reach of the hotel. There is nowhere in the world where you can't buy a Big Mac, watch Teletubbies or get a mini cab.
So does this mean that there are no more adventurers left? No, no it does not...
For there is such a man, to be precise, Mr R Johnson of Dunfermline whose letter in the January 2008 Readers Digest warned us all of the dangers the Common Ragwort. It is men such as this that make this country great.. and now time for a lie down I think
