Île de Peilz, or Peilz Island, is small picturesque island in Lake Geneva in Switzerland, not far from the town of Villeneuve. Measuring somewhere between 20 and 77 square metres, depending on different sources, it is often described as the smallest island in Lake Geneva and possibly the lake's only natural island. A solitary London plane tree dominates the entire islet, its broad canopy visible from passing boats and from the shoreline. This tiny speck of land has inspired poets, generated local legends, and become one of the most photographed features of Lake Geneva.
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In 1905, a little-known journalist named Edgar Wallace was determined to make his first novel impossible to ignore. The book was The Four Just Men, a thriller about a group of vigilantes who take justice into their own hands when the law proves inadequate. The novel would eventually become one of Wallace's most famous works and launch a long-running series. Yet its initial publication is remembered less for its literary success than for one of the most spectacular marketing disasters in publishing history.
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In the late 18th century, no man in Edinburgh seemed more respectable than William Brodie. By day, he was a successful cabinetmaker, a member of the city council, and a deacon of the Incorporation of Wrights and Masons, one of the most prestigious tradesmen's guilds in Scotland. But by night, Brodie led a secret life as a burglar and thief, moving through the dark streets of the city with the same keys and skills that had earned him the trust of its wealthiest citizens.
His extraordinary double life eventually ended at the gallows. A century later, Brodie’s life inspired one of literature's most famous tales of dual identity: Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
In a small village on the outskirts of London stands a barn so vast and magnificent that it has often been likened to a church. Its soaring timber arches rise high overhead, and its cavernous interior inspires the same sense of wonder that one expects to feel inside a medieval cathedral.
This is Harmondsworth Barn, and it was built more than six centuries ago to store grain harvested from the surrounding fields. Today it is widely regarded as one of the finest and best-preserved medieval barns in Europe, a masterpiece of timber construction that demonstrates the wealth, ambition, and engineering skill of medieval England. The poet and architectural campaigner John Betjeman was so impressed by the building that he famously described it as "the Cathedral of Middlesex."
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In the frigid waters of the Canadian Arctic, nearly 100 meters beneath the surface, lies a ship seemingly untouched by time. Despite the passage of more than a century, she is more or less intact, except for a gaping hole in her starboard side. Two of her masts still rise from the seabed.
The ship is Breadalbane, the world’s northernmost known shipwreck, and also one of the best-preserved wooden ships ever found in the sea. She lies approximately 1,000 km south of the North Pole.
The Breadalbane and Phoenix beset in ice. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
When Britain entered the Second World War in September 1939, military planners understood that thousands of Allied servicemen would inevitably fall into enemy hands. Traditionally, prisoners of war were expected simply to endure captivity until the conflict ended. But this time, the British military establishment began to develop a very different philosophy.
To coordinate rescue and escape efforts, Britain established MI9, a secret department dedicated to helping Allied servicemen evade capture and escape from occupied Europe. At its head was the determined Norman Crockatt, a brigadier who transformed escape from a private ambition into an official duty.
Highly detailed map printed on silk were supplied to Allied PoW to help them escape. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
On November 9, 1963, two investigators from France’s Central Office for Counterfeit Currency Control (OCRFM) arrived at the post office on Rue Turgot in Paris’s 9th arrondissement. Five days earlier, a customer had purchased 1,000 francs’ worth of Treasury bonds there using a stack of crisp 100-franc notes bearing the portrait of Napoleon Bonaparte. At first glance, nothing seemed unusual. The notes looked authentic, felt authentic, and even carried convincing watermarks. But they were counterfeit.
A 'Bonaparte' 100 Franc notes that Ceslaw Bojarski forged. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
On 18 November 1870, a crowd gathered outside the Surgeons’ Hall in Edinburgh. Inside, seven young women sat for an anatomy examination alongside male medical students. Outside, hundreds of men jeered, shouted insults, and attempted to force the gates. Mud, rubbish, and abuse rained down on the women as they tried to enter the building. Some of the male students reportedly released a sheep into the hall as a mockery of the female candidates. Others, more sympathetic ones, tried to shield the women and escorted them out of the college in safety once the examination was over.
Surgeons’ Hall, the site of the 1870 riots. Credit: Billy Wilson
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