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Since 1st March, 1999
 
THE TELEGRAPH
 
 
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Ideology and friendship

friends, who have enjoyed one another’s company for long years during their adolescence and early youth, attending music, poetry and dance recitals together, watched together with avidity avant garde films and had literary taste which differed only slightly from one another’s, suddenly ...   | Read..
 
Letters to the Editor
The competitive fairy
Sir — Gone are the days when Thakurmaar Jhuli and Enid Blyton were children’s best friends d ...  | Read.. 
 
Fight for food
Sir — The food security bill, which was reintroduced in Parliament on May 6, is the brightest jewel ...  | Read.. 
 
EDITORIAL

VIRGINS AND HOUSEMAIDS

Even a female of easy virtue has a right to life. This statement is not an extract from a crumbling, ancient text, but the...   | Read..
 
DIARY
 
bullet Opposite views
bullet Over the moon
bullet Fresh woes
bullet Doting dad
SCRIPSI
There was a man here, lashed himself to a spar as his ship went down, and for seven days and seven nights he was on the sea, and what kept him alive while others drowned was telling himself stories like a madman, so that as one ended another began. On the seventh day he had told all the stories he knew and that was when he began to tell himself as if he were a story, from the earliest beginnings to his green and deep misfortune. The story he told was of a man lost and found, not once, but many times, as he choked his way out of the waves. And the night fell, he saw the Cape Wrath light, only lit a week it was, but it was, and he knew that if he became the story of the light, he might be saved. With his last strength he began to paddle towards it, arms on either side of the spar, and in his mind the light became a shining rope, pulling him in. He took hold of it, tied it round his waist, and at that moment, the keeper saw him, and ran for the rescue boat. — JEANETTE WINTERSON
 
 
 
 
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