Tuscany’s killer climate
The hotel manager had arranged for me to borrow an Alfa Romeo Spider Duetto two-seater convertible (1982) for the afternoon.…
Why can’t my mother be allowed to die at home
As they say: it all happened so quickly that it wasn’t until afterwards. One minute I was bawling at my…
My oncologist is a shining goddess
The weather forecast was rain, torrential, all day, so I took my anorak. In the hospital car park it was…
Up close and personal with Thomas Hardy
I walked in out of the rain, dripping, and sat down beside the fire on the primitive high-backed settle. ‘Is…
The joy of my local paper
As usual I go downstairs at five o’clock in the morning and into the dining room, which now serves as…
Why being poor is always more expensive in the long run
Of course the varifocals I bought online were a waste of money. When they came in the post and I…
What my mother’s death means for Brexit
Considerate to the last, she had her order of service arranged in her mind. I sat close with my notebook.…
Banana leaf, wood-effect on knitted? Choosing my mother’s coffin
The mental fruit of yet another sleepless night was that my mother was determined to arrange her funeral as quickly…
Will the Mistral drive me to murder?
So far this latest Mistral wind has blown for two and a half weeks. The Mistral is said to blow…
Meet Santini: the world’s worst tourist guide
Santino was unusually short in the leg and, in his mid-twenties, was already rapidly losing his hair. He had recently…
The joy of scrumpy
‘How’s your day going?’ said the taxi driver as he snapped his knob into drive. If I caught the plane…
A moral dilemma on my freebie holiday
We drove north and parked in the designated car park with a quarter of an hour to spare before the…
I took Oscar to Provence – in business class!
In the Easter holidays, plus two school days, for which his mother will be fined or, as a serial offender,…
Am I about to be usurped by Philippe, our handsome French gardner?
We have a gardener, Philippe, who comes once a week. He lives in a ruin a little way down the…
I’m making a cave disco in the south of France
I’ve swapped my carer’s tray in Devon for a barrow and spade halfway up a cliff in the south of…
After ten weeks spent caring for my mother, I had to relearn the art of conversation
I said my goodbyes and went outside with my trolley bag to wait for the taxi. While waiting, I looked…
The travesties competing in the Terrier category at Crufts
Does the BBC suppose that it will convert the public to a belief in equality if it does not, in…
I hadn’t had a drink in six weeks but that was seven hours, three pubs and a club ago…
Standing in a messy kitchen at the tendril tip of a county line at three o’clock in the morning, Trev…
My life as nurse, chief cook and bottle washer for my mother
My fifth week confined to barracks as nurse, chief cook and bottle washer. I drive to the supermarket about twice…
The strange people who keep a nightly vigil over my mother
To begin with it was mice. The house was overrun with them. She saw them out of the corner of…
‘I don’t know how ever Jerry stands it’: diary of a world war one artillery man
My sister’s boyfriend is a solitary man and easily overwhelmed by another’s presence. On his rare visits he flits in…
Oscar is nine, and has largely abandoned speech in favour of gestures and monosyllables
Just before I left France, Oscar’s mum sent over a photo of Oscar in his classroom at school showing the…
What Sylvia learned at the constipation clinic
‘The whole of my life I’ve had difficulty.’ I heard Sylvia say this through the door, which was slightly ajar.…
When a reader invited me to stay with him in Exmoor estate, how could I refuse?
My first night back in Blighty, I sat all evening at the kitchen table drinking wine with a charming, courteous…
Hell — and heaven – on the French Riviera
We drove down from the hills to visit friends of friends with a house by the sea and on the…
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