Palm Beach This place is good news for senior citizens everywhere. It is the Mecca for the rich where even my old friend David Metcalfe is considered middle-aged. It is also one of the few resorts in America where religion counts a hell of a lot. In fact, this is what Palm Beach is all
Two white-coated codgers bent over some sticks in north London yesterday morning. One cleared his throat and, in ritual tone of relief and contentment refound, undramatically announced, ‘Play!’ Considering everything, all was well with the world, and the 2006 first-class cricket season was officially under way at Lord’s — MCC v. Nottinghamshire; today begin six
Q. Please help me urgently. I have made a terrible social faux pas. Two very good friends asked me to be godfather to their children. One child is Oscar, the other Tom. I accepted enthusiastically because, for all my other faults, I am a very good godfather. Last week I discovered the christenings of both
‘Veronica,’ I said when she was taking her Wellingtons off outside the back door and couldn’t run away, ‘what does cotching mean?’ ‘Haven’t the foggiest. I thought you were Mrs Language.’ But cotching is meant to be young person’s slang, and, although Veronica has taken her degree, she still seems a young person to me.
