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
My struggles with the blues harmonica
By Jeremy Clarke
Time and again in France I have found that the greater the offense the more easily one is forgiven
By Jeremy Clarke
Between Christmas and New Year I spent five minutes on the form and sent the email
By Jeremy Clarke
Wearing two masks struck me as being as absurd as wearing two hats and I laughed
By Jeremy Clarke
