I keep reading these heart-warming pieces in the quality press about sad and lonely people’s lives being utterly transformed by internet-dating websites. This person says her sex life has gone from zero to something resembling the stampede at a Harrods sale. That person says he thought his life was effectively over and has now found
We met outside Tate Modern. The location was convenient for us both and held shared fond memories of aimless Sunday afternoon strolls along the South Bank. She brought along her new baby, a happy, sociable little soul, and we sat under the west wall of the old power station for over an hour and had
I’ve two convictions for drink-driving and I might have had a third a couple of years ago when I hit a bus. Fortunately, I was injured and taken unconscious to hospital so there was no opportunity for me to blow in the bag. The rule back then was that a person had to be awake
I made her acquaintance in the ladies’ lavatory towards the end of a fantastic birthday bash held in the upstairs room of a north London pub. I was incoherently drunk, and I think she was too, because I can’t remember either of us managing anything more than gestures or monosyllables. She was a committed, even
Before we buried her in the cemetery, we attended a brief service in the church hall opposite. When she was alive, my mother’s cousin had enjoyed the kind of faith that is pretty much indistinguishable from cast-iron certainty. What we were lowering into a hole after the service, she’d have wanted us to think, was
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
I thought I’d never see the day when Sharon would be content to spend a quiet hour with me looking at my holiday snaps on the laptop. I thought I’d never see the day when Sharon would be content to spend a quiet hour with me looking at my holiday snaps on the laptop. Alcoholic
The chaps thought I was mad going to Stoke. Several reasons. Number one was that the match was being shown live on telly and could be watched in the comfort of our local pub. Number two was the fact of our poor form. We’ve played four and lost four. And reason three was that it
A friend of a friend has been staying for a few weeks until her new house is ready to move in to. She is 50 years old, divorced, never stops talking, works with deaf people. She is as shallow as the Thames at Southend when the tide’s going out, but I quite like shallow. I’m
Deep breaths. Swap ‘Hound Dog’ Taylor for Toumanie Diabaté. Wind window down, rest bare arm on sill. Feel warm breeze on bonce. Tell self to overcome anger as only hurting self. Tell self to count blessings, live in moment. Tell self kids back at school next week, after which fewer holidaymakers, traffic less horrendous. Tell
I turned up at Trixabell’s massage studio in a lather. It was a hot morning and I’d been rushing. Sweat was trickling down the sides of my face and soaking through my shirt in the usual places. I’d better have a shower, I said. There wasn’t one, she said. Nor was she worried about a
I’d been away for three weeks and when I came back the lockers had been moved. I was directed to a space on the gym floor between the drinking fountain and the rowing machines. On the rowing machine nearest to the lockers was a woman with the face of Gina Lollobrigida and the body of
Cursing myself, I rushed out of the house in my pyjamas. I’d forgotten to put out the brown recycling bin for the fortnightly collection. I lifted the lid on next door’s bin and peeped in. Empty. I must have missed the truck by minutes. Now I was in trouble. Putting the recycling bin out on
We circumnavigated Iceland in a clockwise direction, calling on successive days at Reykjavik, Grundarfjordur, Isafjordur and Akureyri. At each of these places we disembarked and took an excursion led by a local guide. At Grundarfjordur, I took the Snaefellsnes national park coach tour. Our guide was a smartly dressed, highly educated Icelandic woman who spoke
Last weekend I returned from France on a cross-Channel ferry. The decks were crowded with young people jabbering away in French, German, Dutch, English. It occurred to me that whichever language they spoke these kids were very much alike in dress, conduct, outlook and lack of physical fitness, as though a European cultural union had
When the cabin crew capo spoke on the public address system, she expected nothing less than our undivided attention. We had to suspend our conversations ‘right now’ or ‘right at this moment’. Her accent, I think, was Sydney suburbs. But this one passenger had the sheer gall to continue reading his Daily Mail right through
I was in Ypres, about which Churchill said, ‘A more sacred place for the British race does not exist in the world.’ Thousands of members of that race were knocking about in the town. We were easy to spot among the more prosperously dressed Belgians. But not always. I said bonsoir to this bloke who
I was lolling in a deckchair with a vanilla ice cream, watching the literary types in their interesting shoes pass to and fro along the cobbled path, when, 30 yards away, across the grassy courtyard, Martin Amis appeared in a doorway and lit up. I recognised the face instantly. I watched him carefully. He must
Two buses a week leave from the bus stop at the lonely crossroads on Thursday and Saturday. I’d caught the Thursday one as the first leg of a journey up to Westminster, to attend The Spectator’s summer party. Dressed in a dark suit and party tie, and attended by a herd of heavily pregnant cows
On Saturday I went to a wedding and didn’t touch a drop of alcohol and it was fine. I enjoyed myself more, I think, than if I’d been slinging them back. On Sunday evening, pleased with myself about this, and seriously considering permanent sobriety, I went to the pub. The England v. Germany match had
