Mother and baby – well probably 4-5 years old – delight in regurgitating banana
I am awake at 3 am. Not to find out the score between France and Belgium, but to prepare for the next stage of our adventure: a trip to Kalimantan (Indonesian Borneo) for a river trip to see orangutans in their natural habitat. Continue reading
My new friends on Roon island
No dive trip is complete without a shore visit. The first village is on the island of Roon where they have just had their 2018 festival. We are greeted by the village elder and his tiny daughter decked up in a grass skirt and looking overwhelmed. The welcome committee extends to a local band playing on bamboo flutes and locally-made drums, and then a procession of grandmas, sashaying along the main road, at right angles ot the extraordinary statue of a missionary that dominates the square. Continue reading
Here we are again at Basel Art Fair. We are lucky this time in that we have Art First doyenne Clare Cooper to guide us. Continue reading
Castle by night with Szechenyi chain bridge in foreground, built by a Scot
Our son Tommy has bought us a weekend break in Budapest as a 60thbirthday present. He has chosen the hotel, devised an itinerary and booked a Michelin star restaurant for the Saturday night. Continue reading
Looking over into Spain, the other side of the Douro river
With hardly time to breathe we are off again, this time to Portugal. At the UWS Gala dinner I successfully bid for a weekend in the Douro Valley on one of the region’s oldest wine estates. As it is a holiday weekend in Switzerland we decide to go a day early and spend a night in Porto. Continue reading
I don’t think my garden will look like this…
It was a rare warm spring day when I arrived at Sarah Raven’s Perch Hill Farm this week for a master-class in veg growing. The Sussex countryside was bucolic – gambolling lambs, forsythia bursting, hedgerows popping…and Sarah’s farm was beginning to sprout too. Continue reading
I never tire of this view of the majestic Dents du Midi – now covered in masses of snow
We have always spent Christmas and New year in Champery since my mother died in 2009. There seemed no need to remain in England after that; and even less so after Louise died in 2011. The three of us come here and try and avoid the madness that overtakes even rational people at Christmas time. The only presents I give are to Ross and Tommy; friends may receive small tokens from our travels, Christmas biscuits from the Basel market or home-made chutneys, if I’ve made any! Continue reading
