Calypso began with the chantwells. These were slaves who entertained plantation owners in colonial times. The chantwells made up songs about the people they knew and the things that happened to them.

The name captured […] the sound of the cars themselves, a high-pitched, insectlike whine — the sound of constant speed.

The circus will be in town next week.

As for Will Deverill, less critical of Nature’s handicraft, he found the inns over-civilised; the Post and the Bräu were too fine for his taste: they had come thus far in search of solitude and Alpine wilds, and they lighted instead on a sort of miniature Grindelwald, with half-a-dozen inns, a respectable café, experienced (or in other words extortionate) guides, and a regular tourist-trap for the sale of chamois-horns and carved models of châlets.