Low life
The downfall of the French middle class
The chesty Corsican taxi driver was giving me his earnest appraisal of the way things were headed in France politically.…
Sally Rooney on steroids
To lessen the side effects of chemotherapy I am prescribed a corticosteroid. I take a whopping dose around the treatment…
Why I’m touchy about being asked what I do for a living
In former times I had acquaintances of long standing, or even friends, who never once asked what I did for…
I rather enjoy my chemotherapy sessions
With a French health card everything is free for us cancer patients, even taxis to and from the hospital. ‘This…
A tale of refugees from ‘Brexit Britain’
In the New Year I was introduced to a couple who had fled Britain impulsively on New Year’s Eve with…
Was I the picture of evil incarnate?
Not long after Catriona and I first met, her husband painted my head and shoulders portrait in oils as I…
How I love England — despite the hellhole that is Gatwick airport
At Gatwick airport, after an hour and 15 minutes in a snaking queue system apparently purposely designed to infect as…
A tale of many swimming pools
My two grandsons are staying with us here in Provence for a week. Roman soldier Catriona flew from Marseille to…
From ferreter to animal-rights champion
I was sitting quite still at the typewriter when a plump mouse emerged from under the fridge and crossed the…
The art of losing your hair
Although fatigued to the point of catatonia, and sitting there like a 19th-century Fang funeral mask, I am glad to…
A date with destiny – and chemotherapy
I was shown to a room divided into three cubicles, each with a reclining chair and bed table. In the…
A very annoying guide to the Somme battlefields
We arranged to meet the second, more expensive, guide of our Somme battlefield visit at the Thiepval Memorial visitor centre…
Walking the Somme
Where the 36th (Ulster) Division attacked at 7.30 a.m. on the first morning of the Battle of the Somme in…
Help! I’m restaurant-phobic
Vernon fancies this new age elfin-faced French woman who owns and runs a restaurant. She’s hard-working, she’s a reader, and…
It’s the end of lockdown – and the village has gone wild
The village square is a long and pedestrianised oblong shaded along its length by massive pollarded plane trees. It’s known…
Jason Ricci is my mentor, guru and anointed one
A second week recovering in bed in this pleasant south-facing bedroom. If I sit up, my back resting against whitewashed…
The art of negotiating with French nurses
‘Ça va, Monsieur Clarke?’ said a nurse when he noticed I was stirring. It was an effort to speak. ‘Thirsty,’…
The curse of surgical stockings
The porter rolled me off the trolley and on to the bed, wished me a good day and departed. My…
A taste inquisition on Stink Street
Walking up through the Stink Street medieval arch with a bag of shopping, I spotted Michael between the oleander branches…
The joy of ironing
On the Saturday morning of the Ascension Day bank holiday, I swung down the stairs and ladder to the little…
The myriad signatures of a canine pissoir
Sally (la Sal, the Salster) is part whippet, part Labrador and part dormouse. She is 16 years old, stone deaf,…
If all else fails, there’s always basket weaving
The only thing left for me now is to embrace humility and take up basket weaving. In our dog and…
My clairvoyant GP
‘Willie or bum?’ I said to Catriona on the motorway. Everything in my recent medical career has been introduced via…
I have been ambushed by the past
The other week I turned up for the village walking club’s Monday hike. A dawn meet. Two cars. A 90-minute…
Mon dieu! Our French residency permits have arrived
For EU nationals living in Britain and wanting to legally remain after Brexit, a letter or an email was enough…
