I've been in Australia all week.
From time to time, I succumb to one of the great delusions of the modern world: namely that a gadget or device will allow me to do something I've been doing for years faster and more efficiently, thereby gifting me more of the
This does not make it one jot easier for troubled young women to live in our own skin.
My friend Ian's girlfriend Cindy has opened a Thai restaurant at Tollcross in Edinburgh.
I have just come back from lunch at St John, the splendid restaurant in Clerkenwell that serves up bone marrow and other bits of animals that the English normally eschew.
I write this on the third year, to the day, of my arrival at the Hovel. How am I going to celebrate this auspicious anniversary? At the moment I'm thinking of clearing out the fridge.
A rustling and puckered moment at a convenience store somewhere in the switchback of streets skirting Edinburgh's Castle Rock: I have placed a hand of bananas, a half-litre bottle of Volvic and three Mars bars on the counter;
There's talk, predictably, of a civil war within the Lib Dems. Well, we all saw that coming. But the violent fate awaiting Clegg and his clan is just one example of a panoply of conflicts.
By the time you read this, I will be dead. Well, no, not dead, I'm exaggerating. Asleep. Yes, that's more like it.
Funny to be back in Cornwall for my summer holidays for the first time since I was a child.
The ever-widening gap between rich and poor has meant that the real, low-income, middle classes are
The queue is both tempestuous and timid. Indeed, it is large enough to contain many human emotions along its winding length, a length that is only just contained within the confines of the post office.
I wake up at 7.30am feeling fine. This is never a good sign and, sure enough, by about noon I am feeling rotten. Ho ho, I hear you snigger, Lezard has been at the happy juice again.
I've decided to run a half-marathon in Bristol. In a couple of weeks. Why not? Well, there are all sorts of good reasons why not. For a start,
The estate agent is apparently honest, very polite and utterly upbeat. "Oh," he says, surveying the dilapidated property we stand in. "This is
Every year, I'm surprised by the number of people who make it back from their holidays. I always half-expect to get calls from friends or
Did kidult culture spawn kidult restaurants, or was it perhaps the other way round?
Bradford's Pakistani community predominantly originates from the Mirpur region.
I stumble downstairs on a muggy, sultry morning to find, miles from his natural habitat, an adult bull walrus asleep on my sofa.
It is the morning of 13 September 1759. On the Plains of Abraham, just outside the walls of Quebec City, Britain is losing its great gamble for world power.
The Prime Minister has suggested that Britons should holiday more in the UK. But for the middle clas
In the second part of her series on social care, Victoria Brignell describes the challenge of recrui
In the face of Mac-owning fervour, I retreat behind my trusty PC.
I have become half-obsessed with Steven Moffat's excellent updating of Sherlock Holmes for the BBC. At the time of writing, I have seen only the first two episodes, back to back, but am very impressed.
It’s lazy to assume that our health and happiness are moulded more by genetic inheritance than by th
Sweets and batteries by the tills - isn't that the way of it? And Good Housekeeping, too.
It’s time male scientists stopped hogging all the power in experimentation, funding and research and
The equalities minister, Lynne Featherstone, wants us to embrace Mad Men’s curvy secretary Joan as a role model. Wrong choice, right idea.
The Yorkshire Wolds make for an unimpressive horizon. Middling chalk downland that struggles north from the Humber for 40 miles, they fail to be truly noticeable at any point between the M62 and the coast.