A friend who has three daughters and two granddaughters organises a “daughters’ day” every year. It can be anything – lunch at a posh restaurant, an evening at the theatre or a day at a spa hotel. What a brilliant idea, I thought, so I promptly went and organised a daughter’s day myself. Or three days as it turned out. After lots of discussion we decided to go to Stockholm, ...keep reading
A wet, windy Bank Holiday Monday and it feels like summer is over. My husband and son are out windsurfing (they figured that the lashing rain couldn’t possibly make them any wetter), my daughter’s at the Notting Hill Carnival and I’m settling down with a new book – I Can’t Begin to Tell You by Elizabeth Buchan, to be precise. I love the promise of the autumn but I’m sad that ...keep reading
I seem to be one of the few people who doesn’t have a satnav in their car. I still rely on an ancient AA atlas that cost £1.99 in a garage years ago. The Oxford page has got a massive rip through it, but apart from that the map is still doing sterling service and I rarely get lost. But now it appears that I’m one of a dying breed. ...keep reading
In my days as an on-the-road reporter I used to stay in hotels quite a lot. Now my hotel stays are as rare as my trips to the gym. But this week I hotfooted it to east London to spend two days with my daughter. After scouring scores of websites we eventually plumped to check into The Hoxton in Great Eastern Street. As well as being just round the corner from ...keep reading