Not a huge amount of work getting done in this parish at the moment, for understandable reasons, but I have managed a piece of journalism which you can find here.
The Spectator has a special place in my heart. I met my husband on a blind date and, checking him out from a distance before I committed myself to having lunch with him, I noticed that he was sitting with a glass of wine and reading The Spectator, while he waited for me to show up. This signalled to me that he was a discerning reader and definitely worth at least an hour of my life. The rest, as they say, is history.
I’m only sorry that by the time I started writing for his favourite magazine, he was beyond knowing or understanding. He’d have been like a dog with two tails.