Fr. F. Mihalic SVD (1971): "The Jacaranda Dictionary and Grammar of Melnesian Pidgin."

Tok Pisin: the lingua franca of Papua New Guinea, and a language in its own right.  Even if you don't speak it, and will never meet a Papua New Guinean in your life (shame on you) this book beats the average Teach Yourself French hands down.  This is interesting even if you never leave England.  Hell, this is essential reading even if you never leave your drawing room and a maid brings you tea on a tray and carries you to a commode in the corner of the room when you've overdosed on port. There are people, who choose this way of life. I kid you not. Here I am not speaking of anyone unfortunate enough through no fault of their own, through age or infirmity, to be confined to their own study walls.  Here I speak of those who shall rename nameless, such as the currently practising London barrister who managed to contract teenage gout. Numquam poetor nisi podager (Ennius). Tennyson would have been proud of teenage gout.

My point is. If you can obtain a copy of this book, and if you have an interest in languages, then Fr. Mihalic has produced for you a readable, practical glory. If you ARE in fact heading for PNG, then you MUST read it, if only for the adversative mood form of the verb: Yu no kilim; paitim nating ("Don't kill it; merely hit it") etc. etc., and so on.  "God i no gat pinis bilong en" does not translate in the way one might expect (it means "God is Eternal," rather than "God has no gentleman's whotsit"). As I say. Essential reading if you're travelling that way. Don't bother with the Lonely Planet by the way. In my experience, the speed at which things change in PNG, it is better to have a good grasp of the language skills than a map of a town which was burned to the ground three years ago since the glossy pic was taken. Your choice of course.

Some choice and eternal phrases from the poetical Tok Pisisn from Fr. Mihalic


Mi gat pispis blut - I have blackwater fever. 
Pilai nating - to play for fun, to play soccer with little or no attention to the rules of the game.
Sindaun bilong ol i gutpela - They are leading good lives.
Em tasol i paitim mi - This one hit me.
Mi lukim wanpela pukpuk - I saw a crocodile.


All of these are far more useful than being able to ask the way to the coffee shop (there won't be one), the post office (its just been raided and burned down) or the police station (its no good going to them, they're the one ones who did it).

This title from the Jacaranda Press is probably best obtained in UK from AbeBooks.co.uk who have access to booksellers in Australia where most copies of this book exist.

John Buchan (1930): "The Four Adventures of Richard Hannay"

Containing his four Richard Hannay books: The Thirty Nine Steps, Greenmantle, Mr. Standfast and The Three Hostages, this omnibus has appeal to any late-maturing former fans of Biggles.  I'd love to feel too serious and grown up to still be enjoying these roaring tales of colonial era adventures, but then when I look about me on the train each day and see that the other passengers are either (1) playing games on their phones, (2) reading Harry Potter, or (3) reading "Passion" or similar tales of sassy London business girls struggling to balance spending their vast bonuses on frippery with finding lasting commitment from similarly shallow accountants and bankers, then I feel less bad about reading Buchan.

A cold rainy day when the masses are commuting back and forth, engaged in honest toil and tilling the earth outside, in offices or on trains.  Bless 'em. That's a good day to spend some time warming the pot, getting down the favourite Spode cup and s., and settling back into some Richard Hannay.  With the best will in the world, end as much as a fan of Capt. W. E.  Johns as I am, the Thirty Nine Steps is quite poor.  It would require being snowbound in a tent on Cader Idris, happily to be able to accept some of the coincidental meetings on moorland that Hannay experiences. I have been on many walking trips in Britain and overseas, on moors and mountains but I have yet to meet in quick succession: a member of parliament, two of the chaps from prep school, a kindly blacksmith, a hook nosed pirate with a surprising weakness for toffees. Individually yes, of course. On seperate trips, yes.  But one after the other within five hours of leaving Kinshasa on foot. Never.  Assuming you can come to terms with the outrageous levels of convenient meetings, and some of the more colonial expressions used, then the Thirty Nine Steps is for you.  Mind you, it only took a few hours to read, so assuming you are on a train, have forgotten your adult-covered Harry Potter (so everyone else assumes you're reading Thucydides presumably) and you're not requiring more entertainment than, say Birmingham New Street to York, then this is for you.  If you're off to Papua New Guinea for three months, this will not fit the bill.  You'll have finished all four books before you're being strip searched by Australians in Sydney airport, let alone   hanging out with the wontoks on the Highlands highway.

On real adventures, always take books dealing with the mundane or the pastoral.  Take my word for this. Little Dorrit is what you want to be reading when the fourteen year olds outside your hut with the automatic weapons are keeping you awake on the wrong side of the Sepik.  That said, I'm enjoying Greenmantle.

At home, on a rainy day in Oxfordshire, make do with John Buchan.