Monday Everyone’s gone Palin crazy! Poppy, Jenny, Lucy and Ellie all came in with their hair teased into frightening up-dos this morning. I might have to go through Mummy’s wardrobe and see if she’s got any hairpieces left over from the Sixties. Must say, I find this Sarah woman deeply scary. I don’t mind that
Sarah Standing battles to board a plane bound for Ibiza Needs must and I’ve become extremely skilled at booking cheap, credit-crunching flights on easyJet. The volume of hours, energy, blood, sweat and tears I’ve devoted to acquiring dream e-tickets for my family ought to qualify me for some sort of tenacious travel operator award. This summer
Monday I wish people would stop sending in complaints about the cost of hotels in Birmingham. I am not the English Tourist Board! But as we’re on the subject, let’s be clear — the point of having conference there is not to save money, or have fun. It’s so we can get out to parts
The fifth week of continuous downpour. Mouldiest summer ever. The children stay abed until lunchtime. I yell upstairs, Who wants to go for a massive walk? Who wants to come to Tesco in Minehead? Who wants to go to the Exmoor pony centre? There are never any takers. Exmoor pony centre was the scene of
Monday Hooray! It’s official — Dave is no longer the Heir to Blair, he’s the Heir to Thatcher!! This makes all our hard rebranding work worthwhile. As Nigel says, it’s a measure of how far we have come that we are now able to wage war on benefit cheats, binge drinkers and Russia. None of
An immediate rumour after the opening ceremony at the Beijing Games was that an emergency meeting of the British Olympic Committee was convened in order to find an excuse for cancelling London 2012. There might have been even greater panic because Britain is expected to produce a ‘performance’ of eight minutes as part of the
Monday Copies of lads mags found lying around leaders’ office: 5 (v bad); pounds shed by Mr Pickles in name of Being The Change: 0 (v bad); inquiries about why we haven’t launched any green taxes yet: 67 (v v bad); pages read of Quick Guide To The Caucasus: one and a half (vg). So
One of the great adventures of being an actor is filming abroad, when suddenly you have the opportunity not only to visit, but actually to work somewhere else; to feel temporarily part of another city’s fabric rather than floating along its surface. This, then, comes to you from glorious, sweltering Rome, or more precisely from
Every six months the tabloid press shakes its pudgy fist in ecstatic indignation over some new film (usually French and about as offensive as a French actress’s unveiled breasts). Last week, it was a British film called Donkey Punch which prompted the ever-raging question ‘Is this the vilest film ever?’ The answer, as with all
Monday V nerve-wracking weekend. Thought I was going to get the sack for leaving the mike on during Dave’s meeting with Mr Obama. Wrote a long email of apology to Gary cc Nigel for accidentally forgetting to tell the ABC cameraman that it was pictures only, but Gary sent me a memo back, cc’d every-one,
From London to Bath to Manhattan, ten funerals or memorial services since October makes more than one a month, and attending them can seem a full-time occupation, as well as a sorrowful one. John Biffen, Bill Deedes and Ian Gilmour were full of years and had done the state some service. James Michie and Euan
We’re back in St Tropez after a whirlwind week in London. The party season is in full swing so I dipped my toes in a couple, and what a difference between two of the most high-profile events that week. One, an exhibition of paintings at a Dover Street Gallery, was given in a large airy
Rebecca Newman gives a rundown of her week Rarely in my life have I enjoyed running. A tubby child and then a sickly teen, I spent games lessons hiding behind a piano with a book. Odd then, that this week I completed (half of) one of the toughest marathons in the world. Stranger still, I enjoyed it.
Penny Smith gives a rundown of her week No matter what happens, Friday is always a big day for those of us who do five days of getting up at sparrow’s cough. The prospect of two days of lie-ins is so exciting it makes me feel giddy. My self-imposed rule of no drinking and no caffeine is broken
Monday Hats off to the Major government — it’s not easy managing sleaze. Putting out endless statements explaining why some MP or other isn’t on the take. The reasons are so complicated. Plus it takes ages to calm them down. They ring in on the Helpline practically hysterical. Had one this morning. ‘Have you any
I’m just back from New York, where I met friends from the New York Times. Their morale, they said, was low. This is a typical complaint of journalists everywhere; for not only are they seldom content with their lot but, more than people in any other trade, they love to analyse and expound upon their
The summer solstice is upon us. Time to get out the woad, ramp up the chanting and perform some ancient pagan rituals involving fire, water, air and earth. It might be very cheering to get blue and naked in the countryside, and it would certainly take our minds off the current doom and gloom that
Monday Dave opened the nine o’clock by paying tribute to a great former shadow home secretary whose place in history, and on the back benches, was now assured. ‘We will give him all the space he needs to fulfil his brave quest of being re-elected to his own constituency.’ Then we proceeded to Options For
Another Ark fundraising dinner has come and gone and I can finally get back to running my business. More importantly I can focus on the programmes that the dinner paid for. The stress started in January as Ian Wace (my partner in Ark) and I planned a thousand details for Europe’s largest charity event. It
Monday Fraught morning. Drew the short straw and had to take Mrs Spelperson her camomile tea but couldn’t find her. Looked everywhere. Under the desk, in the filing cabinet. Nowhere. So I couldn’t tick the chart confirming that she had been checked on and given light refreshments. I expect she’s climbed out of the window