Low life
Frantic chewing of sugar-coated nicotine gum had caused my left lower molar to go irretrievably rotten, and the dentist finally…
Low life
Last week was the tenth anniversary of the last running of the English hare-coursing classic, the Waterloo Cup. I shan’t…
Low life
This hotel is brand new. One half is a university students’ hostel, the other an apartment hotel. Car parking is…
Low life
My grandson and I had a lovely hour-long swim at the leisure centre. We had the learner pool to ourselves…
Low life
This month’s wine club lecture was on red burgundy. The members were settling themselves at two large tables when I…
Low life
I’m rubbish at public speaking and detest it. Even the thought of reciting an English poem of my choice at…
Low life
The taxi-driver wound his window one third of the way down and put a priestlike, confessional ear to the freezing…
Low life
The hotel and its bright tan prayer rug of a beach were one. In the early morning the distant image…
Low life
Over Christmas and New Year I was rotten with flu and didn’t go out once. I stayed soberly at home…
Maldives: My heart is in Moofushi
Jeremy Clarke found his perfect island – and had to leave it
Low life
A fruity voice on the train’s announcement system said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, make sure you have all your belongings, family…
Low life
After lunch on Christmas Day my father always stood at the sink in his apron and yellow Marigolds and did…
Low life
The thing I enjoy most about travel-writing gigs is meeting other hacks. Hacks are almost invariably fun, funny, gossipy, irreverent,…
Low life
Moofushi, Maldives We clambered aboard a dhoni, the sturdy wooden boat that the Maldivians use for getting about the…
Low life
An hour earlier I had stepped off a plane from Dublin and I was three-quarters deaf in one ear. I…
Low life
Another writer I once liked very much is Gerald Brenan. Brenan served with distinction in the first world war and…
Low life
Rubbing shoulders with political suits on the pavement outside the Westminster Arms, I drank two pints of Spitfire. Pump primed,…
Low life
My maternal grandmother (née Clarke) had six brothers, all keen poker players. All six volunteered to fight in the Great…
Low life
What a beautiful day, I thought, as I nodded to the porter in the bowler hat and stepped out of…
Low life
‘Is that you, Sister?’ It was Tom misdialling again with those thick, stubby fingers of his. ‘No, it’s me: Jerry,’…
Low life
As I think I said in this column the other week, I used to sneak into English lectures at University…
Low life
I like the New Zealand writer Katherine Mansfield, who according to Virginia Woolf smelt like a civet cat and had…
Low life
‘Stand outside the fishmongers in 20 minutes and call this number,’ she said, ‘and I can arrange it.’ On Saturday…
Low life
I’m round at Amy and Bill’s for Sunday afternoon tea. Amy and Bill are my in-laws, kind of. When I…
Low life
Music of the Forest on Radio 4 last week was a profile of the anthropologist Colin Turnbull, 1924–1994, who achieved…
