Best life
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…
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…
The Lady vanishes
The moment I stepped out of the Covent Garden sunshine and into the regal offices of the Lady magazine, it…
My secret Ukraine trip with Boris
Kyiv On the morning of 24 February, I woke just before seven as a tentative apricot dawn was spreading over…
What I can’t tell you about Lamu
Lamu Ever since we arrived on the syrupy, sweltering Swahili coast – where else would your Best Life columnist be…
The hell of bra shopping
It’s probably haram to quote Cecil Rhodes these days, but he was bang on when he said: ‘Remember that you…
The Parties of the Year: my verdict
As the editor’s brief for this column is ‘Fomo-inducing’, I must push the boat out for my debut and am…
