New York The fact that a sailor on leave cannot whistle at a pretty girl’s legs is scientific proof that America is beyond help and finished for good. That also goes for hard hats, who along with sailors were among the whistlers back in the good old days before woke ruined men, women and the
It took five firemen or pompiers to lift me out of bed, carry me down three narrow flights of stairs and down a rocky path, then to shove me into the back of their van. When I cried out in pain the sweating firemen joked that I was a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer.
We had planted a cluster of daffodils on the spaniel’s grave, but after a few days the weather battered them down. Sadly, the little yellow flowers began to curl up and wither in the force of the wind and hail that was pelting the small wooded copse where we laid Cydney to rest. I chose
It’s uncanny, but if I gauge it right, I can summon my wife as if by magic. Mrs R’s hearing is at its most acute in that lull between her afternoon Earl Grey and evening G&T, at which point she can hear me pop a cork from two floors away. She’ll be down in a trice,
As another summer approaches, I’ve embarked on yet another attempt to lose weight. You’d have thought I’d have learnt my lesson by now – what goes down, must come up – but it turns out yo-yo dieting is actually good for you. At least, that’s the conclusion of a team of researchers at Oxford University
Q. I remember a time when one could be confident of reaching all one’s circle through an announcement in the personal columns of the Times – for example to say that one was not sending out Christmas cards but instead would be making a donation to charity. Or, indeed, where one would be spending one’s
It was a perfect setting for a spring day, next to a 15th-century barn. Other walls and buildings had clearly recycled ancient masonry over the centuries. This was in Kent. Though not that far from Ashford station, it was a garden deep in the garden of England: l’Angleterre profonde. There are excellent local pubs, with
‘Hang on,’ said my husband. ‘That’s not right. I’ve read that book.’ He had too, the book being The Hooligan Nights. It purported to be an account of a young hooligan from Lambeth called Alf, and was published in 1899, a year after the feared and anathematised youths came to prominence in the press. The
Who invented the clock, pray tell, time’s division, the ticking spell? An ice-cold man that hated song, who sat and thought the whole night long and listened to the starved mice brawl and beetles pacing in the wall. What invented the kiss? I’ll tell: a lovely mouth, you know full well, that kissed and did
Last month in a Swiss hotel, I came across an idea so beautifully simple that I felt it would be immoral of me not to share it. The bed in our room, rather than having one king-sized duvet, was covered by two double-size duvets overlapping in the middle. Eureka! Given that the Swiss are world
When jockey Derek Fox came over from Ireland to join the Scottish stable run by Lucinda Russell and her partner, Peter Scudamore, the long-time champion rider, he was teaching himself to read via texts on his phone. Now he discusses books with Scu. Cleverness comes in different shapes and it was a supremely intelligent ride
