I have just finished reading Caroline Moorehead’s new book, A Train In Winter, a devastating, compelling, horrific, wonderful and haunting account of the 230 French women who were shipped by the Nazis to Auschwitz-Birkenau in January 1943. Less than a … Continue reading →

A day of endings. This morning Paddy Leigh Fermor’s memorial service was held at St James’s Church Piccadilly, where I happen to be churchwarden. I never met him, but Penelope was devoted to him, which seemed a good enough combination … Continue reading →

Coincidences abound. Yesterday I went to Sussex to interview someone connected with the next book I’m doing, nothing at all to do with Durrell or my mother, but found myself only a couple of miles from Loxwood, the village they … Continue reading →

Following on from the 22 November post about the Villa Seurat crowd and porn sites, I was reminded of something Larry said when I visited him in Sommieres with Penelope in 1988. The French papers were full of reports of … Continue reading →

A wonderful – well, not wonderful for the man or the ducks – item of news from the States about a man who was shot in the bum by his dog stepping on the trigger of his gun while they … Continue reading →