You never know the good that will come out of a bad situation. You may think something is bad, when in fact it’s good for you. In my late teens and early twenties, for example, I was so exceedingly skinny that I would try everything to attempt to build weight. At the time, living with …
My lunchbreak was spent making a hearty lentil soup. I don’t know if it will be any good. I just threw anything I could find in the pan. Necessity is the mother of invention.
Days like these serve to highlight what it must be like to be a working single parent. By the time I sit down at my desk to start work — late — I’m already exhausted, having been on my feet for hours. It makes me grateful that usually this is a shared workload. It would …
And then I remember why I neglected treatment for so long. To vanquish this version of myself.
I’m sorry, no amount of pleading from Mr Brown can prevent Paddington from being deported to Rwanda. He arrived illegally by boat, thus must he lodge his appeal from there. I don’t care if this sounds a bit colonial. We’re British, cod damn it. Stand up straight.
You never know what will come hurtling your way next. I used to say, “When our kids grow up, then we’ll be free.” But, of course, it’s not like that. You don’t know what caring responsibilities await you. Today could be a foreshadow of all that is to come. My wife is sick. My elderly …
There is little worse than being victimised by someone you like or admire. First, there is the moment, which breaks your heart, unseen. Then there is the afterwards, which lives on and festers for years to come. In the afterwards, there is the blame game: either blaming yourself or their friends or relatives, but never …
The best way to prevent the boats would be to stop going around the world telling everyone how great Britain is. A simple rebranding exercise should do it. On all official signage and letterheads, replace the ‘Great’ with ‘Shit’. So as not to damage the fragile pride of the natives, this brand shall only be …
I don’t know how I become so lazy in the culinary department. I used to be a dab hand in the kitchen. In the early days, I’d make all sorts. Cakes, pies, curry, pasta, roasts… you name it. My lemon meringue pie — completely from scratch — was famous. But those adventures, it seems, are …
It’s nice to go away, but good to return. My parents live in a beautiful part of the country, but then so do we. While away, I enjoy the comforts of my parents’ spacious pad, but then I recall that our little home is where our heart is. I put off a visit for well …
A great discovery: Pastéis de Natas. Pretty much the Portuguese version of Laz Böreği. I bought six for my family for my return from the west country. These from Nata & Co. They went down a treat. Yum.
Multiculturalism has failed claim yet more multicultural commentators in multicultural relationships. Why don’t these folk just come out and say what they really mean? Clearly they don’t mean their families. They don’t mean their own partners with dual citizenship, or their parents, siblings or in-laws. If only they could look in the mirror and reflect …
I’ve had such strange, heavy dreams the past few nights. Where they come from, I do not know. My utter exhaustion? Sleeping in a different bed? Fresh air? A different environment? Unknown. So many characters from years ago injected into my mind, from university and the early years in London, though I wasn’t thinking of …
Perplexing that so many MPs hostile to immigration are either migrants, children of migrants or married to migrants themselves. But I guess they’re just the right kind of immigrants.
