By Norman Lewis
Regardless of communist incursions and tribal rebellion, Norman Lewis describes a land of breathtaking common attractiveness peopled through the mild Burmese. this can be a state the place Buddhist trust spares even the rats, the place the Director of Prisons prices Chaucer and the place three-day theatrical indicates are staged to rejoice a monk taking orders. Hitching lifts with the military and traveling retailers, Lewis is handled to hospitality anywhere he stops during this war-torn land, and divulges a rustic the place 'the of the soul replaces that of the inventory marketplace as a subject matter for well mannered conversation'.
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Additional info for Golden Earth: Travels In Burma
But, dear reader, that isn’t to say this will be a ‘fluffy’ book. I want to tell things as I saw them: relay the funny stories and recall the many wonderful characters and friends that have enriched my life. ). Why give them the publicity, I say? No, I’d far rather fill these pages with words about me. This is, after all, a book about me: a suave, modest, sophisticated, talented, modest, debonair, modest and charming individual–of whom there is much to write. Throughout my tenure as James Bond, there were many wonderful scripts to work with, and one of my favourite lines from any Bond film came from Tom Mankiewicz, who wrote the screenplay for The Man With the Golden Gun.
He asked. Damn it! He’d called my bluff. An exemption card was issued to people beyond the obligatory call-up age of eighteen to prove they had a valid reason not to be in the armed forces. I smiled awkwardly and having found my identity card, handed it to him hoping he would–being a red-blooded male like myself, fond of a kiss and a cuddle–take it surreptitiously and not reveal my little deception to Lovely-Lips. ’ he said. ’ I knew it was getting late! Too damned late for the Lovely-Lips to remain inviting!
However, with renewed encouragement from my darling wife Kristina, my daughter Deborah and my dear friend Leslie Bricusse, I have decided it is now indeed time to make time and stop making excuses. When, on the eve of my eightieth birthday in October 2007, I announced that I was starting work on my story again, I was adamant that it would be a fun book with no recycled scandal, tittle-tattle or dirtdishing–the expected inclusion of which had worried me so much when I tackled my earlier version.