New York April in the Bagel is as good as it gets. The girls are back in their summer dresses, people are crowding the outdoor cafés, and Central Park is an explosion of greens and pinks. Spring, as the song says, is busting out all over. And the taxman cometh — though not for 41
I saw three films at the cinema last month. The first was a French-made job, with subtitles, called A Prophet. It was awarded the accolade of ‘best film’ at Cannes in 2009 and I drove the 20 miles to the arthouse cinema full of optimism. In the café beforehand for a cup of green tea
The consensus among my girlfriends is that it is simply marvellous that I’m free, that I’m being true to myself, that I have taken my power back. On the other hand, if I don’t find another man soon I’m never going to get this sack of logs out of the footwell of the passenger side
It is now generally accepted that David Cameron made a colossal blunder in agreeing to the televised debates. Had last Thursday’s debate not taken place, the Conservatives would still have a comfortable lead over the other two main parties, on track for a small overall majority. Yet among the commentariat — even those in the
Q. My wife and I live in a very pretty, modestly sized farmhouse. It comes with two barns to scale and since long before I met her, friends, and friends of friends, have been in the habit of asking my saintly wife to store things for them, while they get their lives and accommodation together.
Like a baby that throws its rattle from the pram each time it is handed back, my husband responds to specific stimuli from the television. Every time he hears the phrase next up, he shouts, ‘Shut up!’ This exclamation also serves as a response to first up, and even listen up. English is rich in
