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I read recently that this month marks 40 years since Britain’s first mobile phone call was made. It was in the early hours of New Year’s Day 1985 in Parliament Square, when one Michael Harrison rang his Vodafone chairman father, Sir Ernest Harrison. It would, of course, take many years – and much hankering and hysteria – before I got my own mobile A few years later, one sunny Saturday morning, my father took delivery of his first company car. I must have been about ten years old and can recall the sheer thrill of seeing something outside our house that wasn’t one of my mother’s seemingly endless succession of

I’m sure my mum would forgive me for saying this, but cooking is not one of her many strengths. Raising three children, and with a husband who worked shifts in a steel mill, she was feeding people round the clock, so cooking became a necessity rather than a pleasure – as it will have been for the majority of working-class women in the 1960s and 70s. Since this was before convenience food really hit the shelves, things were cooked from scratch, and in winter, steak and kidney suet pudding was on the menu in our house most weeks. As were liver and onions, mince and potato pies and anything else

John F. Kennedy opted to serve New England lobster, Ronald Reagan a California-inspired garden salad – and James Buchanan 400 gallons of oysters. Held at Statuary Hall in the US Capitol, the inaugural luncheon for a new president is as much part of inauguration day as the swearing-in ceremony and the inaugural address.  Nixon enjoyed pineapple slices topped with cottage cheese and washed down with a glass of milk First time around, in 2017, Donald Trump’s inaugural meal featured dishes including Maine lobster and Gulf shrimp. But for those not on the guest list to find out what he serves tomorrow (McDonald’s ice cream, perhaps?), there are plenty of other

When Rachel Reeves was the shadow chancellor, she would round up the spare pastries at the end of meetings and save them for later. No wastage! Her intentions were surely good, but she would have known that there were witnesses, and she knows how political gossip works. Now, as chancellor of the exchequer, she has just told the BBC’s Nick Robinson that she brings in her own home-cooked lunches in Tupperware. Of course, every part of her personality must scream fiscal responsibility. She has a favourite chess move (the Sicilian defence), that conveniently works as an allegory for her approach to politics. She claims to enjoy freezing cold open-water swimming late at night. A half-eaten

This is a big weekend for two of Britain’s best young trainers, both with the Christian name of Harry. Neither will want to come away empty-handed from the next three days of racing because both men are giving racecourse outings to some of the best horses in their respective yards. I will start with Harry Derham, nephew of 14-times champion National Hunt trainer Paul Nicholls, and who is no less ambitious than his uncle to make a name for himself. Derham is also astute at picking the best possible races for the equine talent in his care, not being afraid of crossing the Irish Sea and taking on the likes