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In search of a January day out in London on a shoestring, we took a trip to the British Museum to view the Staffordshire Hoard, accompanied by dozens of sticky-fingered kids who had already left their marks on the two glass cases. Whilst I am sympathetic to the lobby for the retention of the find…
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Who clears up afterwards?

For all those of you who are in the midst of Christmas preparations, a reminder that Christmas arrived late last year. It didn’t require a fanfare, or cards, presents, wrapping paper or tinsel. It was a day when the schools were closed but the pubs and parks were full. Families spent time together. Adults remembered what it felt…
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I don’t know what it says about the current state of the music industry that the nation has taken Seasick Steve to their hearts. Brixton Academy was busier than I have ever seen it before, some of the audience being of the too young to buy watered-down beer variety. But, afterall, this is a man who…
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And I don’t mind at all, I really don’t. It’s just that this is about the age when the Davis family children started to make home-made badges for our dear father out of empty cornflake boxes, which we made him wear to work, naturally. And they were not descreet, oh no: they were the size of a…
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Another five star on Amazon has just made my day. Thank you Kandy from Oxford.

John Irving is the author who made me want to write. No doubt about it. A Prayer for Owen Meany and Cider House Rules are, quite simply, two of the most inspirational novels that I have read. Why? The characterisation is extraordinary. But there is something else about his work that I admire: he has the confidence to approach…
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So, my local Lib Dem MP, Tom Brake, has emailed me to ask for my views on the proposal to repeal the ban on fox-hunting. And I want to reply with the word CRUEL to show my complete horror at the suggestion – but something is preventing me. It is the foxes who use my garden on…
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Remembering the days when there was an honesty box in the wall and you let yourself in, I was deeply saddened when Rosslyn, one of Scotland’s best kept secrets, was turned into a circus after the publication of the Da Vinci Code. So it was with great relief that I heard that Highgate’s visitor numbers…
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It was a rotten Wednesday evening to be dragged out on: dark by six o’clock and relentlessly wet. The whole population of London had simulatiously forgotten how to drive and parking in Wimbledon Town centre – well, you could forget it! As I stood at the door of Waterstones on ticket collection duty, it seemed…
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