We had the perfect guide who took us off the beaten track and knew when to keep quiet
By Jeremy Clarke
‘Glass of bubbly, Marigold?’ I asked Catriona’s sister at a quarter to nine on the first morning of her visit
By Jeremy Clarke
My oncologist sat beside me and, with a trembling hand, highlighted the crucial sentences
By Jeremy Clarke
The Corsican taxi driver painted a thrilling picture of impending social revolution
By Jeremy Clarke
I don’t exactly look forward to them but it’s not so bad once I’m there
By Jeremy Clarke
Oscar and Klynton are visiting us in Provence and a 100-degree heatwave has hit. There’s only one place to be
By Jeremy Clarke
The passport checking hall resembled a Nuremberg rally but most of us used it as an exercise in British stoicism
By Jeremy Clarke
Eating out once a week I can cheerfully manage. Twice, I start complaining
By Jeremy Clarke
I was vice-chairman of the South West Lurcher, Terrier and Ferret Club. Now I’m pleading for the life of a mouse
By Jeremy Clarke
Our visit was marred by his tuneless humming and lack of historical insight but a few beers put everything right
By Jeremy Clarke
As I wrestled with mine, my ward mate hung his head in shame
By Jeremy Clarke
Lately my afternoons are spent with America’s no. 1 blues harmonica player and his tongue-blocking techniques
By Jeremy Clarke
If my internal critic gets too negative or noisy, I steam-flatten the commentary line by line
By Jeremy Clarke
Whereas the older nurse was effortlessly capable of subjectivity, objectivity, sympathy and imagination, the younger woman was limited to the first category only
By Jeremy Clarke
