Category: Wednesday’s Child

Aldous Huxley, it may be remembered, was not only George Orwell’s senior, but, as it happens, one of his masters at Eton in 1917, teaching the young lad French…

Hopper was very frank in his pronouncements, and one of the truths he imparted was that Clint Eastwood fled California and made for Italy in the 1960’s to escape persecution, ostracism, and unemployment.

The gentle reader is aware by now of my fascination with “true crime,” as it was called when Britain ruled the waves.

I never saw much point in parenthood when my firstborn arrived, anyway not until Nikolai was two or three years old, a bit younger than Vasily is now.

A specter is haunting Europe, the specter of temperance.

Soviet revivalism is in the news because it is an instrument in the toolbox of Kremlin propaganda, but this is not entirely relevant to what I want to say.

It stands to reason that the piloting of a banana republic should be in the hands of banana republicans, but unfortunately we’re not in Latin America and it’s Republicans with a capital R who are at the helm.

I want to sound a note that at first appears incongruous or frivolous but is in fact deeply relevant, namely, how the habitual lie seeps into the national character and becomes an inalienable part of it.

Great Britain finally gave up the ghost in the early days of this rainy March, but I shall not now dwell on the immediate cause of her passing, which was, of course, the extirpation of hereditary peerage in the House of Lords.

Don’t you know there’s a war on, as the reprimand went in the last big one. Detached from reality though I am by disposition, I ought to acknowledge that yes, something like a war is going on there, in fact more than one.