The Corfu Trilogy (The Corfu Trilogy #1-3)

by Gerald Durrell

And you must never, for any reason, sleep beneath a cypress.’ He paused, stroked his moustache, waited for me to ask why, and then went on: ‘Why? Why? Because if you did you would be changed when you woke. Yes, the black cypresses, they are dangerous. While you sleep, their roots grow into your brains and steal them, and when you wake up you are mad, head as empty as a whistle.’

‘I don’t see why it should be dangerous even then,’ said Larry. ‘Why not?’ asked Leslie. ‘Well, if they charge you, and you miss, why not just jump over them?’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Leslie, grinning. ‘The damn’ things stand about three feet at the shoulder, and they’re hellish fast. You haven’t got time to jump over them.’ ‘I really don’t see why not,’ said Larry; ‘after all, it would be no more difficult than jumping over a chair. Anyway, if you couldn’t jump over them, why not vault over them?’ ‘You do talk nonsense, Larry; you’ve never seen these things move. It would be impossible to vault or jump.’ ‘The trouble with you hunting blokes is lack of imagination,’ said Larry critically. ‘I supply magnificent ideas – all you have to do is to try them out. But no, you condemn them out of hand.’ ‘Well, you come on the next trip and demonstrate how to do it,’ suggested Leslie. ‘I don’t profess to being a hairy-chested man of action,’ said Larry austerely. ‘My place is in the realm of ideas – the brainwork, as it were. I put my brain at your disposal for the formation of schemes and stratagems, and then you, the muscular ones, carry them out.’

"Hairy chested man of action"!