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Mapping out one of life's great treasures

LIKE Robert Louis Stevenson, I filled many empty childhood hours poring over maps.

An atlas was my PlayStation, covered as it was in those faraway days with "pink bits", denoting the extent of the British Empire. Like Stevenson, too, I was told that there were people who "did not care for maps", but like him I never met any. Who could not care for maps? With even the smallest atlas, the names of whose places could be read only with the aid of a magnifying glass (which added to the romance), you held the whole world in your hands.

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