I’ve failed to cheer myself with strong alcohol, CBD and speed, so I went to the local nuns
By Jeremy Clarke
There was a wall of books, ashtrays from the golden age of smoking and an air of greater liberty
By Jeremy Clarke
Susceptible people confuse his miraculous prose with their own lived experience
By Jeremy Clarke
What is luck?’ said Klynton, aged ten. ‘Hard to explain,’ I said
By Jeremy Clarke
After a morning at a 15th-century priory, and lunch at the Café de France, I rejoined the ranks of the alive and well
By Jeremy Clarke
We could all drink, but Tom was in a league of his own: chaos was his element
By Jeremy Clarke
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
