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peter worthington memoirs

The casbah in Algiers during the height of the troubles in 1962 was probably the most dangerous place in the world for foreigners. Every day, I passed corpses on my route. Occasionally, I'd get trapped in a firefight as nervous French soldiers fired at shadows. Last in a series of excerpts.
For some time, Olga had been talking in riddles, dropping hints, making provocative comments. Once when I had remarked on her relatively good life in Moscow, she replied: "It is better to be a free sparrow than a caged canary." I had ignored all hints, aware they might be a trap.
During his lifetime, I used to joke that having Peter Worthington as a father was like growing up with a third, much younger brother. Now that he's gone and can't be embarrassed, I can say it was more like living with James Bond, Clark Kent and Tintin rolled into one.