Alan Judd’s latest spy novel, ‘Queen & Country’, is published by Simon&Schuster.
Most people who recall 1976 do so for its appallingly hot summer, when parks turned brown and roads melted. Some will also remember that the celebrity culture throve then as now and that none was more celebrated than James Hunt, Formula One world champion. He was even more celebrated than that most famous soap opera,
In The Spectator of 27 August I reviewed the new Range Rover Evoque despite not having driven it; a narcissistic exercise to see how accurately I could predict my own impressions. Having now spent a week with it, I can proudly proclaim that I passed my self-set, self-assessed test handsomely, albeit not quite with an
One week, two convertibles. The first, a 40-year-old held together by rust, with doors so warped I’ve taken them off, the windscreen secured by baler twine to keep out the rain when it stands but removed when we go anywhere, no lights, free road tax, cheap insurance, and a first-time starter that does all you
I should have used the Discovery 3 to tow an ancient and heavy horse-trailer loaded with well over a ton of logs. Its V6 direct-injection diesel, with plenty of low-end torque, would have smiled; in low ratio first, on rough ground, it pulls it on tickover. But I felt it was time the 39-year-old Series
The imminence of paying for a 17-year-old to learn to drive brings with it the unwelcome question of insurance. Rather more welcome is recent publicity about insurance revealing yet another conspiracy against the consumer. Some premiums have jumped by up to 40 per cent. The reason usually given — uninsured drivers for whom we all
Accounts of the secret world usually fall into one of two camps, the authoritative or the popular. The authoritative — such as Christopher Andrew’s history of MI5 and Keith Jeffery’s of MI6 — are officially sanctioned, based on the file record and reliable. They are incomplete because, inevitably, there are episodes the authors are not
Feel-good factor The sloping rear roof-line, especially in white, prompted comparisons with a squashed fag packet. It’s a profile that’s supposed to appeal to younger owners. When I first saw it, lowered from the heavens by a crane during a preview party at the Orangery in Kensington Gardens, I wasn’t convinced. But I’ve a poor
The story of Bletchley Park, MI6’s second world war code-breaking operation, has grown with the telling since the early 1970s accounts — although, as Briggs points out, Bletchley’s first public disclosure was in Time magazine in December 1945. The story of Bletchley Park, MI6’s second world war code-breaking operation, has grown with the telling since
I recently met a gentleman of Dorset who kindly showed me his car collection. It included an Austin Champ, the Jeep look-alike in service with the military 1954–66. Originally intended as an alternative to the Land Rover, it couldn’t hack it alongside Solihull’s finest — less adaptable, less reliable, more complex, twice as expensive. Yet
I like books with weather and there’s plenty in this one, all bad, which is even better. Set in London during a cold winter, Blue Monday (Penguin, £12.99) is the first of a new series for Nicci French, the successful husband and wife author team. I like books with weather and there’s plenty in this
Alan Judd has written the Bookends column in the latest issue of the Spectator. Here it is for readers of this blog: I like books with weather and there’s plenty in this one, all bad, which is even better. Set in London during a cold winter, Blue Monday is the first of a new series
Cliveden House, that great architectural confection above the Thames in Berkshire, is best known as the seat of the Astors and for the start of the Profumo scandal in the 1960s. The Astors were a political and financial dynasty who colonised Cliveden in the middle of the 19th century and by early in the 20th
There recently left these shores a benign and fecund angel of the automotive realm, Dr Franz Josef Paefgen, retiring chairman and CEO of Bentley. Benign because he was unfailingly polite and helpful and understood the Bentley tradition and the sort of people who buy into it. Indeed, he empathised with a wider tradition than that:
Two propositions: first, whatever its short-term consequences, the killing of Osama bin Laden will neither significantly hasten nor significantly delay the decline of al-Qa’eda. That is happening anyway. Secondly, however slowly or rapidly AQ declines, it will not significantly affect the global level of terrorism. We’re stuck with it anyway. But it’s manageable. Two propositions:
The skies are brightening over Warwickshire, where they breed Aston Martins. The recession reduced staff from 1,200 to 900 but now they’re back up to 1,000 and are opening a dealership in — of all places — Dublin. After spending almost a century in the red, they’ve finally nudged into profit under the leadership of
When I was young I knew an elderly Scottish gentleman who had the good sense to fall for and marry, despite his advanced years, an American widow of verve and charm. Nor did he lack those qualities himself: although half crippled by childhood polio, he became a pilot and a keen motorist. His cars smelt
The motor industry likes anniversaries because they help sell cars. This year is the centenary of Ford’s assembly plant at Trafford Park in Manchester — its first outside North America — which produced the Model T from kits. It’s also the 50th birthday of the E-Type Jaguar (how many times will we see the word
And so to my 72nd car (71st if you don’t count the horsebox). And so to my 72nd car (71st if you don’t count the horsebox). Oppressive financial responsibility has slowed the recent rate of change and I’ve had my 1999 old-shape Discovery 2 for an unprecedented eight-plus years, although one or two others were
I have seen the future and it looks like a Jaguar. It’s sleek and curvaceous and, although it’s a fraction under four-feet high, ingress and egress are easier than in a flattened fag-packet Ferrari. A 195bhp electric motor at each wheel means 0–62mph in 3.4 seconds and zero tailpipe emissions in urban use. Switch on
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
