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Surviving
When I wandered into the woods, I soon realised I was all alone�
I WAS lonely. Papa was a preacher and we lived and travelled in a painted wooden wagon, pulled by Jessie, a large and docile shire horse. We had few possessions; there was no room for what Papa called
Are you sure, love? Why not go on a nice holiday with a friend instead?” “Honestly, Mum,” Lucy said, a touch impatiently. “I’m thirty, not a teenager! I want to travel, be on my own for a while. Since
I always felt like something was missing
SARAH DITUM
What really happened to this young nursing student?
Slowing down to experience the wonder of a ‘survival’ experience in the Scottish Highlands, as our guest editor did to mark his 50th birthday, Patrick Galbraith heeds the calming call of the wild