The cacophonous Mr Chips
Patrick Galbraith is editor of Shooting Times
WHEN MARIANNE TAYLOR left the Kent coast and went inland to university, she couldn’t sleep. Not because, as I’m sure happened to most of us, there was a boy in the room above who stayed up until the early hours listening to French jazz while smoking spliffs out the window, but because for the first time in her life there were no herring gulls squawking in the night sky.
As a nation, we tend not to share Taylor’s love for the
