It was late on Sunday night, and like everybody else I was wrestling with the issue of the moment.
I consider it my patriotic duty to find a destination as sunny and foreign as possible.
“Hypocrisy is at the heart of our national character – without the oil of hypocrisy, the machinery of convention would simply explode.” Continue reading Housing in our age
It was round about halfway through the second set and things were hotting up on Centre Court when I noticed the mobile starting to flash silently in my breast pocket. Furtively I fished it out. There was no choice. You have to be on call. Even in the throes of the greatest tennis match ever played, you have to be ready to respond to events.
I saw that someone had sent me a text. Was it news of a burst main on the Marylebone Road? Had the police made some breakthrough?
It was my old mucker Steve Norris, and here was the message he had the effrontery to send me. “Shouldn’t you be attending to civic duties,” texted Nozza, “rather than swanning around in the Royal Box at Wimbledon?” Continue reading Centre Court, Wimbledon
We have a seat on the UN Security Council and troops in conflicts around the world; and yet this year we didn’t even qualify for the European Championships