An intelligent mix of culture, style, travel, food and property, as well as where to go and what to see.
Forgive me if I don’t join the general ‘Make mine a treble’ hoo-ha about the future of Test cricket after the theatre of the final day of the Oval Test against India, as an injured Chris Woakes made his way to the crease. Why was Woakes ever allowed to bat? His shoulder was dislocated and
With DJs and MCs inviting the crowd to dance on the parade-ring steps as if they were on a beach in Ibiza, and hectoring them into shouting ‘Yay’ or ‘Neigh’ to racing quiz answers, Ascot was a different place last Saturday – Dubai Duty Free Shergar Cup day. Grimacing traditionalists would have been stamping on
The current Labour government grows ever more farcical. Despite its promise to ‘tread lightly’ on people’s lives, we’ve seen war declared on farmers, private schools, pubs, humour at work and even allotment owners. This week came the news that drivers over the age of 70 must take compulsory driving tests, with a mandatory ban if
With the summer’s Test matches over, England’s cricket coach and captain will now be wondering how to avoid our usual trouncing in Australia this winter. Normally we try to win and we get walloped. On the last three occasions we’ve ventured Down Under, Australia have either whitewashed us 5-0 or beaten us 4-0 with one
I’m sitting in a meditation class at a yoga studio in Chicago, neon lights pulsing pink and purple while the instructor talks over a movie soundtrack. I almost can’t believe I’ve paid $30 to be here. When she runs out of scripted wisdom about mindfulness and presence, she starts ad-libbing: ‘And that doesn’t mean you
We’ve all seen appalling stories of people, usually – but not exclusively – women, being stalked by a spurned suitor, and how this can have terrifying and sometimes life-threatening sequelae. However, the popularity of social media has brought about the advent of the less dangerous but mighty irritating social media stalker – or ‘smalker’, as
‘August for the people and their favourite islands,’ wrote W.H. Auden. My own favourite island in Britain is the Isle of Wight, even though my introduction to it was less than ideal. I was seven years old and had been sent to the island for the ritual initiation for British middle-class males of my generation:
Honey enjoys almost superpower status. It is credited with healing viral infections, cuts, hay fever and insomnia, to name but a few of honey-curing maladies. On a regular basis, a particular honey is discovered that bodybuilders swear by, or religious leaders have considered akin to holiness. I had never been keen, considering it an overly
A recent, rather beautiful piece published here told of how the writer, Druin Burch, initially somewhat alarmed by the variety of naked bodies he unexpectedly encounters while swimming in the Med (‘I wouldn’t mind if it was only young women,’ he says to his wife) comes to appreciate the loveable imperfection of the human form.
Don’t get me wrong: London’s transport system is still one of the best in the world. I’d sooner have a backstreet dentist with jittery hands pry my right molar out with a rusty wrench than wait for a bus in Naples or attempt to understand the New York subway map. But that doesn’t mean Transport
You could say my unfortunate track record with pets began in the cradle. At the time of my birth my Hungarian parents had a dachshund named Herr Doktor (because of the serious expression he always wore), or Doki for short. He was very put out by my arrival, as I received much of the attention
If I were a doctor specialising in alternative treatments, and someone came to me feeling depressed, I wouldn’t send them off with a herb-based elixir or a bunch of St John’s Wort. I wouldn’t cleanse their chakras or refer them to an acupuncturist. I’d send them off to Málaga’s annual fair, which this year runs
‘The view was stunning.’ ‘The hotel room was well appointed.’ ‘It’s a city of contrasts.’ Such numbing clichés in travel commentary are considered, by anyone remotely au fait with Eric Newby or Patrick Leigh Fermor, to be unacceptable. But if you watch Match of the Day, you’ll know the footballing equivalents of these kinds of
Ascot’s Shergar Cup meeting tomorrow is a fun event but, in terms of good bets, it is York’s Ebor meeting later this month that excites me more. The four-day event starts in less than two weeks and, unless there is a drastic change in the weather, racing looks likely to take place on fast ground.
Don’t women have a bum deal? Not only do we have to bear children and make our way on the harsh plains where second-wave feminism and rampant neoliberal professionalism meet, but apparently now we must also perform ‘emotional labour’ for our husbands. Sorry: husbands and partners. This emotional labour has been christened ‘mankeeping’, the latest feminist buzzword. Dreamed up by Angelica Puzio Ferrara, a psychologist at Stanford, it describes the heavy lifting that women in heterosexual relationships do to keep
I’ve been having trouble with my phone recently. I noticed it particularly while in France a few weeks ago. I’d flop on the sunbed with a book and then spend half an hour scrolling through ridiculous videos online. But then I do it at home, too – go to bed early thinking ‘Ooh good, nice
There are at least two Long Islands. One of them, eternally famous for The Great Gatsby, is a fascinating blend of glamour and meretriciousness. It is separated from the other one by 3,000 miles of ocean and a totally different culture. In this Long Island – actually about 70 islands of various sizes, also known
I admit to feeling a little intimidated by charcuterie. I have a clutch of books on my shelf all laying out in step-by-step detail how to craft your own salami or whip up a perfect pancetta. They’re well-thumbed, but not a single one has a cooking stain on it. I’m just too nervous when it
So far this summer we’ve had the blackouts in Portugal and Spain, that rather astonishing Heathrow fire, yet more sabre-rattling between Russia and America and the former head of the Army warning that Britain must be ready for the ‘realistic possibility’ of war within five years. Then there was an old general on the radio
Although a historian, until very recently I have been curiously incurious about researching my own slightly peculiar family. How was it, for example, that my grandfather, originally a penniless Welsh peasant, sired a dynasty that in three generations has spread to three continents and includes a squillionaire who founded a multinational club business with 75
Over the years, I’ve made a lot of trips up and down the highway connecting the small Massachusetts town in which I grew up to a strip mall about ten miles away. In this strip mall is a branch of Trader Joe’s, the mid-range American supermarket chain known for its serviceable range of food, decent
There’s something about motorway service stations that seems to encourage the very worst in human behaviour. They’re places where no doubt usually responsible members of society have long decided that it’s permissible to drop semi-industrial amounts of litter on to the verges, urinate all over the toilet floor and belch with impunity while queuing up
‘You can always tell a proper lover of cricket’, Michael Kennedy, the great music critic, liked to say. ‘It’s whether they can appreciate a draw.’ A hit, a palpable hit. By concluding a magnificent Test series at two matches each, after India’s victory in the fifth game at the Oval, even England’s disappointed players may
That it has taken its sweet time getting here cannot be denied, but, at last, it has happened. More than 70 years after the novel by Josephine Tey became an overnight sensation in 1951, a stage adaptation of The Daughter of Time has arrived in the West End. Voted the greatest crime novel of all
When my father, a barrister who still insists on calling himself ‘working class’, talks to his friends about their early days in London, I almost reel at how pleasant it all sounds. Cheap rent in Chelsea. Jobs they got by word of mouth. Long holidays and longer lunches. It sounds less like real life and
Every time I’m in Switzerland, where I grew up, I find myself madly squeezing as much rubbish as I can into a garbage bag. It’s a delicate and messy task. In Switzerland, every bag of non-recyclable waste comes with a price tag – and it’s expensive. You won’t be surprised that the Swiss have perfected
At a time when Britain feels increasingly unstitched – with families queuing at food banks and sewage drifting from rivers to seas – it’s almost impressive that anyone has the emotional energy to be annoyed by vegans. Yet we continue to provoke strong feelings, and Katie Glass gave strong voice to them in these pages
Just before my father died, he visited Mannina in Florence to have his feet measured for a pair of shoes. I’d found the handwritten receipt in his desk on thin yellow paper, stapled with samples of leather. Online pictures of Mannina showed a glass-fronted shop of lacquered wood and brass, the name in beveled gold
These days, most English seaside towns are sites of national mourning. You pay your respects by walking up some deathtrap pier, dropping two pence in an arcade coin pusher and whispering, your flower now on the grave: ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’ But Cowes, on the Isle of Wight, has managed to stave off
