A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I went out for dinner in Paris. I was in high spirits. Although it was a miserable, chilly, February evening, I was on holiday, I’d found free parking and to top it all, Nelson Mandela had just been released from prison (yes, this really was …
At the weekend I washed the bedlinen. In other, less exciting news we left the European Union and the nation prepared for yet another lockdown. But as for me, I washed the bedlinen. It was only when I took the sheet and duvet cover out of the machine, though, that I realised that, worn soft …
A few weeks ago, on a perfect autumn day, I took the train to Cambridge and cycled a rambling, rolling 84 miles home to London. I know what you’re thinking. Well, it represented some solid exercise and I had coffee with my friend Robert, whom I seldom see. And, as is ever the way, it …
Last year, I did a Bad Thing. It started as a Good Thing, but like so many Good Things, it ended badly: I set the wrong programme on the washing machine. Now, I am the washer, dryer and putter-away of washing in our house. I change the beds, pair the socks and fold the pants. …
Just before my fifteenth birthday, I went to America with the Scouts. We were supposed to go to Iran for the World Jamboree but they had a revolution instead and so we ended up in Fort Worth, Texas. Like you do. It was a world of hitherto unknown pleasures. Baseball. Tacos. Rodeos. And there was …
A couple of weeks ago, for a miniature holiday, my partner Susie and I went to stay in a caravan at Ringstead Bay in Dorset, lent to us by my kind friend Vickey. It poured on the way down and when we stopped, mid-afternoon, at Tolpuddle, to pay homage to the Tolpuddle Martyrs, transported to …
A few months ago, a crack appeared in the ceiling at the bottom of our stairs. It was not a big crack and so, obviously, I did the Obvious Thing. I ignored it. Because that always works. Then, a few weeks ago, the crack started to widen. A Lot. And as it widened, the ceiling …
These last few months have been a time for sober reflection. By this, I don’t mean that I stare mournfully in the mirror every morning wondering why running versus beer is always a win for beer (although I do). Nor do I mean that over the past few months I have always been sober (for …
After my daughter Esther came back from Glastonbury last year, we went for a drink and she told me about her weekend. But because Esther is supernaturally organized, this did not mean stumbling through hazy recollections of half-remembered acts, but rather a list, compiled in real time, of everything she and her friends had seen, …
I was replanting my window boxes at the weekend. The pansies that had flourished in recent months had become leggy, so I pulled them out, added some fresh compost and started to plant the marigolds. Which is when I found the egg. Yes. The egg. As I parted the soil, there, nestled deep in the …