Diary

Diary - Digby Jones

• 21 November 2005

A sprint to London to talks at No 10, then a banquet in honour of the Chinese president's visit to the UK. Protesters outside shouting "Shame on you" miss the point

Diary - Andrew Gowers

• 14 November 2005

I cannot pretend leaving the Financial Times is not a wrench, but you swiftly rediscover who your friends are. Don't worry, they say: I've been there, can I buy you lunch?

Life & Society

Diary - Lauren Booth

• 07 November 2005

But what do I wear to the party? I have only two looks these days, TV mummy and gardening mummy. I'm couturially challenged, a fashion-free zone

Diary - Sue MacGregor

• 31 October 2005

She had been to a wonderful production by Birmingham Royal Ballet, but what was it? She knew it was well known and began with a P. "Prawn Lake?" said her neighbour

Diary - Lance Price

• 24 October 2005

Worries that I am developing a split personality aside, if I read another piece suggesting Peter Mandelson and I were lovers, I may have to ring mum to reassure her it's not true

Life & Society

Diary - Jonathan Dimbleby

• 17 October 2005

As my brother David and I pay our entrance fee for the Southampton Boat Show, the girl on the till does a double-take and exclaims: "Look! It's the two Ronnies!"

Diary - Yasmin Alibhai-Brown

• 10 October 2005

I don't have a beard, a hijab or a rucksack, yet my first-class train ticket is checked five times. Perhaps Trevor Phillips would say I wasn't trying hard enough to integrate

Diary - Boris Johnson

• 03 October 2005

Not only is Gordon Brown a chippy, high-taxing, gloomadon-popping, nannying old socialist, he is also a Scot. He sits for a Scottish seat, called Motherclyde or something

Diary - Shami Chakrabarti

• 26 September 2005
• 1 comment

I've had it with the well-meaning pragmatists. If one more of them tries to persuade me of the virtues of deporting people to Algeria, my response will not be printable. By Shami Chakrabarti

Diary - Alan Rusbridger

• 19 September 2005

We gather up as many copies as we can and head back to the Guardian pub. A roar goes up as we stagger in with our bundles, which disappear in seconds