Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.
The last time she came, she took one look at the place and demanded to know where the Hoover was kept.
The deadline for my removal from the apartment approaches – I have about six weeks.
I was opposed to beards, until a most excellent woman asked if I’d grow a goatee. For her.
As I returned to sit on the floor it started, amazingly, to rain on me; the window had a leak. Is this what Brexit is going to be like?
Scotland to London; London to Brighton; Brighton to Salisbury; Salisbury to London; and tomorrow, assuming the trains are running, London to Scotland.
The tabloidisation of papers means the Torygraph is the only one big enough to open out and spread against the chimney.
Gentle reader, forgive me for going on about this man again. But it helps me to feel part of a vibrant journalistic scene.
Things have changed a bit up here, even in the relatively short time I was away.
There are two things to know about Neasden: it has always been a shithole, but the demolition of nearly all its pubs has made it worse.
Queen Elizabeth Gardens, known locally as Lizzie Gardens, is still cordoned off, for Novichok reasons.