Why am I so bad at presents?
My life of non-stop glamour and sizzle continues. Over breakfast in our Notting Hill ‘country kitchen’ I noticed the large…
A kitchen sink drama
‘We had a terrible row just before you all arrived,’ I was saying in a stage whisper over breakfast on…
What could possibly explain my poor Uber rating?
This is not happening, I thought, as I jabbed at my phone to magic up a hybrid to convey me…
I left my heart in Lake Como
Lake Como It doesn’t take long for me to fall in love. A young Adonis with a six-pack bounced on…
How Rio helps us Johnsons find love
My youngest son, Oliver, has asked me to make a speech at his wedding. I am very flattered even to…
My beef with Bruce Anderson
My beef with the columnist Bruce Anderson began, as beefs do, at the Spectator summer party. Not this year’s –…
A tribute to Ann Widdecombe
Ann Widdecombe has died at the age of 78. Devon and Cornwall Police have launched a murder investigation into her…
God save The World Tonight
We were driving to the V&A summer party, windows down, scent of jasmine floating on the liquid June air, prospect…
The horror of being offered a seat on the Tube
It would have been my mother’s 84th birthday on 29 May. I thought about her as I clattered down the…
True freedom is wearing someone else’s pants
Kyrgyzstan Forget the detailed itinerary – a 12-day trip that included the vertiginous 2,446-metre Kotorma pass on horseback – the…
The perils of being a coffee snob
It was when I was staying recently with the Frums in D.C. that, for a dizzying moment, I thought my…
Never pass up a chance to ski
The snow is deep and crisp and even, the sky bluer than blue, and beneath my Black Crow skis there’s…
I embarrassed myself at Jilly Cooper’s memorial
I am ‘sharing’ what follows as a public service. Also, as self-care in the hope that publicly shaming myself might…
Penetrating Trumpland is a breeze
For this trip, I’ve had to divulge my social media handles, blood group, shoe size etc, and have therefore assumed…
A poignant and perfect send-off
We knew the church would be packed as Shelley had died so young. We knew the church would be freezing,…
The day I got naked with the Germans
A man called Gianluca and I mounted the steps to the Friedrichsbad in pensive silence. We hadn’t made eye contact…
Jilly Cooper was utterly unrivalled
Jilly Cooper, the last great Englishwoman of my lifetime – after Queen Elizabeth II and Debo – has died. The…
How not to be a spy
Like our former ambassador to the United States, Lord Mandelson, I was once vetted by the security services. My brush…
Nick Ferrari’s big fat Provençale wedding
It was the morning after the night before and I was picking glass out of my leg by a pool,…
The day I went to Noel Gallagher’s house for tea
In front of me, a sea of lads in bucket hats and Adidas, with pints. Behind me, a sea of…
My night at the Spectator summer party
The first rule of the summer party is do not hold your summer party on the same night as The…
I’ve lost control of the kitchen
Looking back, I can pinpoint my fatal blunder. It was lunch. It was like the West allowing Vladimir Putin to…
We’re spending the children’s inheritance on the dog
After we bought a place on my father’s hill farm in 2000, I’d study the notices pinned to boards in…
Bloodbath at West Chapple farm
Fifty years after its original publication, John Cornwell’s account of the Devon murder mystery involving three dysfunctional siblings remains as haunting as ever
The Lady vanishes
The moment I stepped out of the Covent Garden sunshine and into the regal offices of the Lady magazine, it…
