A favourite mode of deviant relaxation, and relatively harmless means of indulging my on-line screen addiction, is watching scenes of London from times past. Not the flickering hand-tinted omnibuses, flower girls and street urchins of the Edwardian era, or the wailing sirens and underground shelters of the Blitz (though these too have their fascination), but people strolling down the street … [Read on]
The BBC’s Question Time exerts a horrible compulsive fascination. We know what we are to be served up, it makes us hurl expletives at the screen (my wife, who is trying to sleep, tells me to shut up), and yet we still hope that maybe just one panel member or audience member will have the courage to expose the liberals … [Read on]
The spectacle this evening in the great courtyard of Blenheim Palace, its honey-coloured stone glowing in the evening light, where a nervous looking British prime minister hosted the American president for dinner, was indeed magnificent. The president must have been impressed, and no doubt moved by the sound of the solitary piper. The birthplace of Winston Churchill, half American, champion … [Read on]
‘To which word are you referring dear?’ asked the elderly lady as she sipped her tea. Her young companion blushed red with embarrassment – or would have if her complexion had been lighter. Well, what was I supposed to write? But in the current climate this is no laughing matter. Netflix has just fired its head of communications, Jonathan Friedland, … [Read on]
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