I picked up the Bristol 410 from Spencer Lane-Jones, the Bristol specialist in Warminster whose clean and cheerful workshop had swiftly eliminated the petrol smell. It had to have been something simple: the (replaced) fuel tank was from a later Bristol and whoever replaced it failed to reinstall the correct breather. Marque specialists are a
One of my tasks as an employee of Vanity Fair back in the mid-1990s was to compose weekly memos to my boss, Graydon Carter. These were supposed to be ‘intelligence briefings’ on the topics dominating the headlines, but I quickly discovered that he had no interest in news and current affairs. The only thing that
You have to admire the marketing savvy of Paramount Pictures UK. It has picked the perfect moment to release Waiting for Superman, a 111-minute documentary about the crisis in American education. It comes out this Friday, following hot on the heels of the government’s White Paper on education and Ofsted’s report on Labour’s education record.
Only over the past two or three weeks has the horse-racing community turned its attention to jumping but the National Hunt world has not been standing still. When Flat racing ended at Doncaster on 5 November, the racing phenomenon known as A.P. McCoy had already ridden 115 winners in the jumping season, which still has
As a journalist, I was an enthusiastic supporter of the Freedom of Information Act. It seemed like a powerful tool for holding our political masters to account. However, now that I’m trying to set up a free school the boot is on the other foot. By common consent, the point at which the school becomes
New tyres this week for my 1999 Discovery. The last lot, General Grabbers, lasted 30,000 miles. Their Michelin predecessors (bought and fitted at Costco, 20 per cent off) did 37,000 miles. I doubt the new £88 Cooper Discoverers will achieve that but I’ll be disappointed if they don’t reach 30,000. New tyres this week for
Those of us who occasionally advocate the hazarding of money on horses have to live with a little scepticism, too. In fact, those of us who live with Mrs Oakley (actually, it’s only me) have to live with a lot of it. If I were to give up punting, she believes, we could live on
Flicking through George W. Bush’s memoirs, one thing that jumped out was the way in which the President of the United States and the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom chose to occupy their time together when they first met on W’s ranch in Texas. They spent the evening watching Meet the Parents. Now you
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
Nobody communicates his pleasure in winning with a more all-embracing bonhomie than professional gambler Harry Findlay. Labrador puppies presented with a dog treat are a model of restraint by comparison. Even so, the degree of Harry’s enthusiasm as I presented him with the trophy earned by his Inler in the Barry Hills Biography Stakes at
It was around midnight last Friday night that I first became aware something was going on in the street outside my house. I could hear shouting and screaming, but it was the noise of over-exuberant teenagers rather than an escalating argument. I pressed my face up against the patterned glass panel by my front door
You’d be forgiven for thinking it was dreamt up by a Notting Hill yummy mummy. Talk to Your Baby is a national campaign that has just been launched by the National Literary Trust and it’s deadly serious. According to the campaign’s website, ‘Talking to young children helps them become good communicators, which is essential if
Former champion jockey Bob Davies once walked into the paddock and asked the trainer of the horse he was about to ride over three miles and 24 stiff fences, ‘Does he jump?’ Back came the reply: ‘That’s what you’re here to find out.’ ‘When they say that to you,’ Mick Fitzgerald told me on Sunday,
As someone trying to set up a free school, it’s a criticism I hear over and over again: he just wants to secure a free private education for his children at the taxpayer’s expense. Ed Balls has said it, the general secretary of the NUT has said it, Fiona Millar has said it. And it’s
I’m writing this from the Conservative party conference, where my enthusiasm for the coalition has been dampened by the child benefit cut. As a father of four, I’ll be £3,100 a year worse off. That came as a bit of a blow, particularly as I’d just shelled out £650 for a security pass and £160
Petrol-heads know about Millbrook, the 720-acre Bedfordshire proving ground bought by Vauxhall in the 1960s for testing cars and now, still owned by General Motors, shared with other manufacturers and the military. The latter tests some fearsome off-road beasts there but the former confine themselves to road circuits. There’s no shortage: the straight mile, skidpans,
Asked why he had sent a wreath in the shape of a lifebelt, a friend at the funeral of a man who had drowned replied, ‘It’s what he would have wanted.’ Does Flat racing, which keeps convincing itself it is drowning, need a lifebelt in the shape of a rich new fixture at Ascot on
Toby Young’s Status Anxiety I’m a pack rat. I can’t bring myself to throw anything away. When Caroline first moved in with me she couldn’t get from one end of our bedroom to the other because every inch of floor space was taken up with piles of old newspapers and magazines. I have lock-ups full
Are architects the new Muslims? They certainly seem to be giving the mullahs a run for their money in the sensitivity stakes. A couple of weeks ago, I had the temerity to question whether a shiny new building actually improved a school’s academic results, and as a result I have incurred the wrath of the
It is not unusual to hear older people complain about how little botany is taught in schools these days, a serious deficiency where young would-be gardeners are concerned. As serious, however, is the longstanding general ignorance of entomology, the study of insects. I count myself among the ignorami. From pretty well a standing start, I
