There was more than a touch of spring in the air as I walked up Moreton High Street to the White Hart for an early evening pint. Orange, purple and white crocuses were dotted like confetti under the trees by the cobbles, and the daffodils on

The head waiter, his trademark smile firmly in place, leant over to speak to Bernard. He ran his eye over the five other people at the table, who were deep in conversation, and then spoke in a low voice.

“I’m afraid your card

“Come on, Meg. It’s off to work we go.”

He took a quick look around before they left.

He was reluctant to leave the little wooden shed. In the last few weeks, he’d made it pretty comfortable, one way and another. He’d got some

Robin sat hunched up in bed, watching Breakfast on his portable television. He was eating a boiled egg with fingers off a tray and dropping crumbs down the sheets. When the newsreader droned, “In a surprise announcement today the

Gary Oldman had to put on three stone in weight to play the part of Winston Churchill in the latest (and brilliant) Spielberg movie.

It is 6.00 a.m. on January 1st. He is waiting for his personal fitness instructor. The

Jerry was seriously wondering if the best course of action if you were feeling unwell was to spend forty five minutes in an enclosed space with twenty other sick people, many of whom were coughing, wheezing, or sneezing. Finally he

“Lovely spot,” said the inspector, parking the car neatly on the verge of the lane outside the cottage. “Nice and rustic.”

“Too bloody rustic if you ask me,” said the sergeant, tearing angrily at a bramble that had inveigled itself

It looks like a decent enough morning for strolling down the Boulevard du Temple instead of taking a carriage, decides M. Jean Jacques Truffaud, homme d'affaires and patron of the arts. That at least is something to be pleased about

“Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night;
Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That

This the story of poor Linda
Who is fast approaching forty
Her appearance love might hinder
But she’s longing to be naughty.
She has gone to have her hair waved
With all-over body tan
Has her armpits and her legs

“Well, that seemed to go all right,” said the young curate to the vicar, easing off his clerical garment into something more comfortable, and checking his long hair in the vestry mirror.

The vicar nodded. He was a florid faced older