Monday Am going to get to the bottom of this Miliband unit if it’s the last thing I do. There’s something shifty about it, mark my words, although initial investigations are inconclusive. Kept eye on Poppy and James, and when they disappeared off to one of their ‘Special Meetings’ I followed them, crouching behind recycling
St Ives, Cornwall Emailing a friend in Boston, I reported that winter had been so benign in southern England this year that it was bound to snow in Cornwall at Easter. Not so. I write just after dawn as a fishing boat chugs across the tranquil bay in bright sunshine. The week’s weather promises to
Monday was ‘National Nuclear Day’ in Iran. In Britain, with the paid appearance of Leading Seaman Faye Turney on television, it was national humiliation day. The abduction three weeks ago of 15 British sailors and marines by a hostile regime was, at best, a misfortune; the decision of Ms Turney and Operator Mechanic Arthur Batchelor
A fortnight ago, I was invited along to a dinner with John Reid in the private room of a London hotel. It sounded wonderfully conspiratorial, arranged at just a few hours’ notice at a time when speculation about the Labour party leadership was rife. I bounded in to find about a dozen other journalists and
