Mary wakefield
Tales from my private jet
Gstaad I was very sad to read of Rupert Hambro’s death. I didn’t know him well, but first met him…
Vodka, kaolin and morphine: my welcome drinks at The Spectator offices
In 2001, aged 44, I was hired to write a weekly column for this august paper, and for the first…
Gentrification is far from our biggest problem
The late afternoon sun fell on the anomalous pine trees of Gillett Square, London N16, and on the wooden decking…
Spectator letters: Mental health and assisted dying
Suicide and assisted dying Sir: As a mental health practitioner, I am grateful to Douglas Murray (‘Death watch’, 29 August)…
Spectator letters: Oxfam’s Ebola appeal; what Cumberbatch should have said; and why Prince Charles is right and wrong
In defence of Oxfam Sir: Mary Wakefield rightly praises Médecins sans Frontières but makes many misinformed claims about Oxfam and…
Spectator letters: Ken Loach defended, and the music of Pepys
We need religion Sir: Roger Scruton (‘Sacred hunger’, 31 May) describes a reason, dare I say a ‘purpose’, for religion in…
