Seeing Nelson in a new light
I picked up my grandson from his mother’s flat and noticed the change in him the second I clapped eyes…
My Burns Night haircut
At three o’clock I took half a bottle of Glenmorangie with me to Jimmy’s. That it was Burns Night, and…
Two documentaries have made me determined to visit America’s Deep South before I die
‘ESTA refused,’ said the email from the official website of the US Department of Homeland Security. Franklin Roosevelt once said…
Jeremy Clarke: The power of ‘Bonjour’
In France, or in Provence at least, polite rule number one is to say hello. You must offer a distinct…
Jeremy Clarke: Escaping from Colditz with Professor Brian Cox
By New Year’s Day I’d had enough of festivities. Instead of getting out of bed, I turned over, put my…
Jeremy Clarke: How I lost an afternoon to two magnums of mid-range champagne
As I stood there, I was reminded of the man of no fixed abode who, several years back, aged 68,…
Jeremy Clark: Was this a cruise ship — or Colditz?
We ascended the gangplank and were smartly directed to the ship’s library, where the seated purser swiped my debit card…
How a human body burns
I took a dab of antiseptic gel and rubbed my hands together. ‘Alone tonight, sir?’ said the charming head waiter.…
The pure joy of a boring car
My pal Charlie inherited a car and a ride-on mower from an old pal. He kept the mower and the…
Treble doubles, shattered glass and a copper on the doorstep
The door to Trev’s flat was open so I walked in and found him on the sofa watching TV. He…
Was there pleasure at Passchendaele?
At ten to eleven we filed outside the church and assembled in the graveyard around a small cenotaph commemorating the…
A lament for the best pub in Devon
We had a hyperbole competition, the taxi driver and I, over the climbing full moon, clearer and brighter than either…
The perils of the boar-hunting season
The French countryside around here is teeming with wild boar. They visit the shack at night to eat the pansies…
Low life
Last May we had dinner with a comic who reads a lot and his wife. At one point, he told…
Low life
On Saturday night, I toddled up to the village hall for the fish-and-chip supper, quiz night and raffle — bring…
Low life
Early on Friday morning I flew from the north of Iceland to Reykjavik, from Reykjavik to Heathrow, then I hopped…
Low life
The temperature gauge needle heeled hard over into the red. ‘Not again,’ I said to Oscar, sitting beside me on…
Low life
As is traditional in this village, the Chapel congregation had walked the 100 yards up the hill to unite with…
Low life
I got off the plane at Changi still pleasantly sedated by Xanax, passed through the ‘nothing to declare’ channel, and…
Low life
The army patrols at Nice airport go around three abreast, steely-eyed, fingers on the trigger. They walk slowly and scrutinise…
Low life
‘Have you ever thought of having some colour put in, love?’ said Julian as he shaved my neck with a…
Low life
I arrived for lunch a bit late and was led to the dining table. Our hostess disappeared back into the…
Low life
My mother has various chronic illnesses and finds it almost impossible to remain both immobile and awake during the day.…
Low life
On Sunday morning we went, Oscar and I, to a vide grenier in the ancient, picturesque Provençal village. Vide grenier…
Low life
My grandson and I are reprising the 1968 film The Swimmer. Burt Lancaster is an advertising executive at a pool…
