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<rss xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:podcast="https://podcastindex.org/namespace/1.0" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" version="2.0"><channel><title>Manalive</title><link>https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/manalive--7040122</link><description><![CDATA[The flying blast struck London just where it scales the northern heights, terrace above terrace, as precipitous as Edinburgh. It was round about this place that some poet, probably drunk, looked up astonished at all those streets gone skywards, and (thinking vaguely of glaciers and roped mountaineers) gave it the name of Swiss Cottage, which it has never been able to shake off. At some stage of those heights a terrace of tall gray houses, mostly empty and almost as desolate as the Grampians, curved round at the western end, so that the last building, a boarding establishment called "Beacon House," offered abruptly to the sunset its high, narrow and towering termination, like the prow of some deserted ship. (Summary by Gilbert Keith Chesterton)]]></description><atom:link href="https://www.spreaker.com/show/7040122/episodes/feed" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><language>en</language><category>Books</category><copyright>Copyright Crime and Mystery Genre</copyright><image><url>https://d3wo5wojvuv7l.cloudfront.net/t_rss_itunes_square_1400/images.spreaker.com/original/e6d3f34469066089b71d0ed310edd76a.jpg</url><title>Manalive</title><link>https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/manalive--7040122</link></image><lastBuildDate>Mon, 18 May 2026 09:17:16 +0000</lastBuildDate><itunes:author>G. K. 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It was round about this place that some poet, probably drunk, looked up astonished at all those streets gone skywards, and (thinking vaguely of glaciers and roped mountaineers) gave it the name of Swiss Cottage, which it has never been able to shake off. At some stage of those heights a terrace of tall gray houses, mostly empty and almost as desolate as the Grampians, curved round at the western end, so that the last building, a boarding establishment called "Beacon House," offered abruptly to the sunset its high, narrow and towering termination, like the prow of some deserted ship. (Summary by Gilbert Keith Chesterton)]]></itunes:summary><itunes:category text="Arts"><itunes:category text="Books"/></itunes:category><itunes:category text="Science"/><itunes:category text="Science"><itunes:category text="Nature"/></itunes:category><itunes:explicit>false</itunes:explicit><itunes:type>episodic</itunes:type><item><title>Manalive - G K Chesterton</title><link>https://www.spreaker.com/episode/manalive-g-k-chesterton--72041933</link><description><![CDATA[The flying blast struck London just where it scales the northern heights, terrace above terrace, as precipitous as Edinburgh. It was round about this place that some poet, probably drunk, looked up astonished at all those streets gone skywards, and (thinking vaguely of glaciers and roped mountaineers) gave it the name of Swiss Cottage, which it has never been able to shake off. At some stage of those heights a terrace of tall gray houses, mostly empty and almost as desolate as the Grampians, curved round at the western end, so that the last building, a boarding establishment called "Beacon House," offered abruptly to the sunset its high, narrow and towering termination, like the prow of some deserted ship. (Summary by Gilbert Keith Chesterton)]]></description><guid isPermaLink="false">https://api.spreaker.com/episode/72041933</guid><pubDate>Sun, 17 May 2026 15:46:43 +0000</pubDate><enclosure url="https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/72041933/manalive_g_k_chesterton.mp3" length="179024279" type="audio/mpeg"/><itunes:author>G. K. Chesterton</itunes:author><itunes:subtitle>The flying blast struck London just where it scales the northern heights, terrace above terrace, as precipitous as Edinburgh. It was round about this place that some poet, probably drunk, looked up astonished at all those streets gone skywards, and...</itunes:subtitle><itunes:summary><![CDATA[The flying blast struck London just where it scales the northern heights, terrace above terrace, as precipitous as Edinburgh. It was round about this place that some poet, probably drunk, looked up astonished at all those streets gone skywards, and (thinking vaguely of glaciers and roped mountaineers) gave it the name of Swiss Cottage, which it has never been able to shake off. At some stage of those heights a terrace of tall gray houses, mostly empty and almost as desolate as the Grampians, curved round at the western end, so that the last building, a boarding establishment called "Beacon House," offered abruptly to the sunset its high, narrow and towering termination, like the prow of some deserted ship. 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