An Author's Notebook

Today I'm sitting at my computer in three jumpers, looking through the window at snowflakes swirling around the garden. As ever, I'...

Here we are again in Covid country. Either I've become habituated to lockdowns, or I secretly crave a quiet existence, as I'm not f...

I'm in a retrospective mood. December is a month for sorting through our photos and thinking about the year that has passed. It's n...

Hubby and I nipped out for a walk first thing yesterday morning. The mist hung over the green hills of Turville while the sunlight was so pi...

It has been a confusing time. In some ways, I've found the last few weeks of relative freedom more challenging than full-on lockdown. ...

Throughout the coronavirus lockdown, there will be children stuck at home who have suffered emotional or physical abuse; kids who've wit...

The first time I ever sampled sourdough, I was at a business lunch with a contact in New York during the late 1990s. Mid-conversation, sitti...

We got our letter from Boris yesterday. Poor man - I'm sure he didn't imagine he'd end up in hospital himself when he was sittin...

Ever since I gave up full-time work to look after the kids, I've resisted - whisper it - becoming a housewife . The plan, back in 2003 w...

So it's Day One of social isolation. I feel like I can hear the Big Brother voiceover ringing in my ears, giving a running commentary o...

What strange times we live in. I walked into a petrol station yesterday to fill up my car and got terribly excited when I noticed multiple p...