I began thinking about this column one week before I noticed that Craig Brown had pinched it. Actually written what I meant to write one week before I decided to write it, which I guess cannot be called plagiarism just because I had thought of it first. (If I had, that is.) It’s about the
We met outside Tate Modern. The location was convenient for us both and held shared fond memories of aimless Sunday afternoon strolls along the South Bank. She brought along her new baby, a happy, sociable little soul, and we sat under the west wall of the old power station for over an hour and had
Two years ago I had a spiritual experience while being pummelled by an Indian guru called Dipu. I was staying at a spa hotel in Porto Cervo where they had invited one of the world’s leading Ayurvedic practitioners to set up shop as a guest therapist. Being spa-sceptic (I was with a boyfriend who was
Laikipia I have a mob of finished Boran steers ready for the holidays. The butchers are suddenly chasing me and that’s a fine feeling. A year ago, we were in the worst drought for 50 years, with invasions of armed herders and 2,000 cattle. We were left with not a blade of grass. Our cattle
I’m thinking of starting a political campaign. The idea is to draw attention to the rapid decline of one of the most treasured groups in British public life. Once a vital force in the Labour movement, they are now the political equivalent of an endangered species. The campaign will be called ‘Save Our Trots’. Take
Q. An old friend has been complaining to mutual other friends that I have dropped her because I have become ‘so grand’. The truth is that we are members of the same profession and currently I have to work incredibly long hours and travel a lot while she does not. But, to reassure her, I
‘I can’t abide stigmata,’ said my husband, not through aversion to St Francis of Assisi, but by way of joining in this week’s craze, provoked by the BBC, of nominating a pet hatred among pronunciations. ‘I can’t abide stigmata,’ said my husband, not through aversion to St Francis of Assisi, but by way of joining
After the womenfolk in the household have gone to bed, I like to spend a minute trawling a few porn sites. In my case it may be either www.privateislandsonline.com (the estate agency most beloved of James Bond villains) or more commonly www.savewright.org, with its section ‘Wright on the Market’ listing all the properties currently on
