Low life
Karl Miller called me his ‘great white hope’. I failed him, of course
As I think I said in this column the other week, I used to sneak into English lectures at University…
Chatting up Katherine Mansfield
I like the New Zealand writer Katherine Mansfield, who according to Virginia Woolf smelt like a civet cat and had…
A visit to a drugs den above a fishmongers with Miss South America
‘Stand outside the fishmongers in 20 minutes and call this number,’ she said, ‘and I can arrange it.’ On Saturday…
A game of dominoes turns ugly
I’m round at Amy and Bill’s for Sunday afternoon tea. Amy and Bill are my in-laws, kind of. When I…
The bump in the night that changed my mind about pygmies
Music of the Forest on Radio 4 last week was a profile of the anthropologist Colin Turnbull, 1924–1994, who achieved…
An undergraduate anorak at 32
When I was 32, tired at last, for the moment anyway, of seizing the day, I stopped drinking and gave…
Glazed tiles, a barred window: it must be another morning in a police cell
In my late twenties, it was not unusual for me to wake up in a police cell wearing a paper…
What I learned working in the lunatic asylum
In 1984 I was 27. Since leaving school I had done unskilled manual labour, when I could get any. Then…
A road trip in the company of Long John Silver and an exciting pair of thighs
I live in south Devon. Last week I went up to north Devon, to visit a friend who was renting…
I might have no testosterone but I do have a Fiat Barchetta
I’ve might have no testosterone. (My production is currently being stopped by injection once every three months.) But what I…
The indiscreet charm of Jim Davidson
Le tout Torquay was there, cramming into the Princess Theatre with a drink in each hand ten minutes after the…
My grandson’s Great Leap Forward
‘Oscar!’ cried Miss Herd as I arrived. She was standing at the classroom door releasing her charges one by one…
I am walking to the Spectator party — sober, clean and in all my finery
They do love a party at The Spectator. I was invited to four in ten days last week: the Apollo…
Honesty, simplicity, integrity: not what I want the morning after
Tap tap tap at the door. I opened my eyes. ‘Check-out 10.30,’ said a neutral or possibly slightly hostile female…
A circle of love with Brown Eagle Feather
‘I’m wasted,’ said Trev, meaning not that his life is futile, but that his mind was overwhelmed by illegal drugs.…
My night in a room haunted by falling cannonballs
On Saturday night I went to Charlie’s 69th birthday party. What a gaff he’s got. The rather snooty description of…
An orgy of violence at the summer fête
After three days tête-à-tête (and sometimes tête-à-pied) I walked into town alone to get some air and see what the…
A free gin, a cheeky joint: welcome back to the local
My first time back in the local for eight weeks. The manageress lifts the flap, comes around to my side…
Sharon took to the madness of Pamplona like a duck to water
Then there was the time I took Sharon to the Pamplona bull run. She looked very fetching in the traditional…
Two narcissists trapped in one static caravan
I was two days alone in the caravan and no signal or reception of any sort. It was like a…
In the soft Cornish air, with the pressure off, I caved in
Just when I was beginning to think I’d had enough, I was offered a free week in a caravan. I…
'I know what you are, and where you've come from. Be aware we are under God's protection'
I couldn’t find the house so I called the number again. Instead of the man I’d spoken to previously, this…
My love for Sharon was like a mental illness
As Sharon stooped to pour boiling water from the kettle into two mugs, I studied her back and wondered what,…
Sharon's back, altered in mind as well as body
Sharon’s back. As soon as I heard, I went straight round to the house and let myself in. She was…
My VIP drive around Rajasthan
Two years ago, roughly, for a travel piece, I flew to Delhi and took a southbound train to a dusty…
