Snow
Flaubert, snow, poverty, rhythm … the random musings of Anne Carson
It is thrillingly difficult to keep one’s balance in Carson’s topsy-turvy world as she meditates on a wide range of subjects in poetry, pictures and prose
America is a nation divided
New York Imagine a European country today in which a newspaper in its most populous city launches a mendacious project…
After a lifetime in nightclubs, now I party at home
New York It’s party time in the Bagel, and it’s about time, too. Good restaurants and elegant nightclubs are…
The myth of American freedom
Gstaad Imagine a beautiful, sexy woman, an Ava Gardner or a Lily James, with a wart on the end of…
The joy of my new British passport
‘Anything you want?’ says Catriona on her way out of the house to go to the shop. I’m standing at…
A meditation on death
Gstaad I shoulda been a weatherman: no sooner had I announced snow to be a Gstaad rarity than it…
The day I had enough of experts
‘Don’t even try,’ said the man on the car deck as Brittany Ferries’ Finistère tied up on the dock in…
In praise of pomposity
Gstaad My annual end-of-year party in the Bagel was a bust. Too many people brought their friends and I ended…
After five days of being snowed in, awe and wonder starts to wear off
It took three hours for cabin fever to set in. Last Christmas, snowed in at the Oxfordshire homestead, my brother…
My date with Steve Bannon
Gstaad The muffled sound of falling snow is ever-present. It makes the dreary beautiful and turns the bleak into magic.…
Was the easyJet representative a fascist?
Earbuds in. Speed walking to Grant Lazlo’s ‘Heard It Through The Grapevine’. A corridor, a left fork, a moving walkway,…
My unhealthy obsession with Brian May
‘I bet Brian May isn’t lying on his back in a field shelter wondering how long it’s going to take…
