Uncategorized

When I read on the BBC website that ‘England will be the first country in the world to start vaccinating people against the sexually transmitted infection gonorrhoea’, I felt a flare of rare patriotism. We Brits, far from the no-sex-please-we’re-British libel which self-loathing Europhiles like to paste on us, have been known for our sexual generosity (some might say incontinence) since the dawn of cheap foreign travel, so it makes sense for us to take preventive measures. A tiny, immature bit of me even wanted to snigger, as when I was a young girl the idea of ‘the clap’ was a matter of some amusement on the part of my

A colleague took me out to dinner recently, repaying a favour. Ben likes his steak and we ended up at some high-end joint in Mayfair. Unsure what to order, I left it to him and was served Wagyu beef, which literally translates as ‘Japanese cow’. When it came, it was pale in colour with lines of fat running all the way through. It didn’t look like steak. Nor did it cut like one – I probably could have used a spoon. Worst of all, it didn’t taste like one. It was a bit like eating solidified grease that required no chewing and left a funny kind of aftertaste. More foie

I tried getting my husband to go with me, but wild horses wouldn’t have dragged him so I forced a friend’s son to come instead. I’m talking about going to see Tyler, The Creator at the O2. That’s Tyler, The Creator, the magnificent hip hop artist who was banned from the UK in 2015 by then Home Secretary Theresa May on the grounds of supporting homophobia and acts of terrorism.  What, you’ve never heard of him? Well, that’s clearly because you are not as down with the kids as me. I may be a middle-class boomer from Chiswick but I’m also a raging hip hop fan and I know my

‘I have died and gone to heaven,’ the gentle-faced, fortysomething American beside me murmured into her phone. I turned and stared. Too late I remembered the instructions repeated in childhood not to stand with one’s mouth open. But I couldn’t help myself. In the glorious sun at Chelsea Flower Show, I – unlike my neighbour – felt like I had died and gone to hell. Tuesday morning at Chelsea Flower Show is among life’s rare treats. At least, it used to be. The whoosh of excitement crossing Royal Hospital Road, where policemen marshalled crowds; the magnetic pull towards the show gardens, where the eye was dazzled by loveliness; inside the

Astute Scottish trainer Jim Goldie cannot hide his admiration for his five-year-old sprinter AMERICAN AFFAIR, who runs at Haydock tomorrow in the Group 2 Betfred Temple Stakes (3.30 p.m.). Goldie knows a thing or two about decent speedsters having trained the likes of Jack Dexter and Hawkeyethenoo in recent years – the former, in fact, finished second in the Temple Stakes a decade ago. The veteran handler said this week that American Affair was ‘very exciting’ and up there with the best sprinters he had trained which is why Goldie has given his stable star an entry in the King Charles III Stakes at Royal Ascot next month. American Affair