Some of our readers may be aware that the sainted editor’s wife is Swedish — and she has a sister — but I swear on the Koran that what follows has nothing to do with that. The sainted one wrote about Sweden in these here pages two weeks ago. About how the Swedes have bucked
My car overheated in slow-moving traffic so I rang the local garage and the man said bring it in on Monday and he’d have a look. I was anxious to find out why my car was overheating because if the head gasket was blown, it would cost more to fix than it was worth and
No matter how many scatter cushions they put on the beds, British hotels are just faking it. Thirty-five years after Basil Fawlty, we still can’t do hospitality. Oh, yes, we can do fancy little feedback forms and chocolates on the pillow. But we absolutely cannot do the basics. To visit a British hotel is to
I’m writing this from the Conservative party conference, where my enthusiasm for the coalition has been dampened by the child benefit cut. As a father of four, I’ll be £3,100 a year worse off. That came as a bit of a blow, particularly as I’d just shelled out £650 for a security pass and £160
Petrol-heads know about Millbrook, the 720-acre Bedfordshire proving ground bought by Vauxhall in the 1960s for testing cars and now, still owned by General Motors, shared with other manufacturers and the military. The latter tests some fearsome off-road beasts there but the former confine themselves to road circuits. There’s no shortage: the straight mile, skidpans,
Q. A close friend is attractive and clever, but does not have a boyfriend and would be far too shy to try internet or speed dating. She lives, platonically, in London with a man who works with her but he does not have a wide circle of friends and has been no good at introducing
To me this is a silly line of attack. That’s not to suggest there are no possible improvements to Royal Mail services — I can think of several. For instance someone should ask postmen to reverse their round every year, so that it isn’t always the same hapless householders (me, in this case) who receive
