Dear Giles Coren

Dear Giles Coren I have just seen on social media that you recently reviewed a cafe near a beach on the south coast and whilst doing so ranted about “tattooed fatties day tripping from Plymouth”. Now I can’t work out if you actually mean that or if you said it as some kind of traffic

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When is a review not a review?

  It has been a while since I ranted on a Friday but I saw a headline yesterday that properly made me rage.    And made me ask “when is a review not a review”?      No surprise it was in the Daily Mail but hey ho.  The article in question was this one:

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The Waitrose Summer Festival

When my BFF asked if I fancied the Waitrose Festival as a venue for meeting up for a few hours on my birthday, well I couldn’t think of a more perfect way to spend a morning.   Just back from it earlier on today, and I wasn’t wrong. As you would expect, the Waitrose Summer

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Window Wednesday — Highcliffe Castle

The first clue we had were the ladies “of a certain age” occupying ever bench in the grounds.  It wouldn’t have surprised me if they had a picnic and a Thermos hidden in their bags too because they certainly looked like this was a regular occurrence for them.  Certainly in the summer, anyway.   4pm

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The Amazon Dash is a game changer

You might not know what I am talking about when I say the Amazon Dash, so let me bring you up to speed. A while ago I wrote this: Genius or most stupid thing ever   about how much I loved the Amazon Dash Buttons.  In a nutshell, pre-programmed wifi enabled buttons that by pressing once

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The one about Paddington Bear

I was standing in a doorway, my mum on her hands and knees in the far corner of the walk in wardrobe.   There was a sizeable pile of assorted towels, sheets, duvet covers and pillow cases behind us on the bed.  Some cushions already gathered up off the bed and stuffed into a bin

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An afternoon cruise with Gin? Oh hello

  I have always said I would be suited to being a lady who lunches.  It seems like the perfect way to spend your days, doesn’t it?  A couple of weeks ago I had that very thought confirmed.  Right after I had spent a leisurely afternoon on board the Betsie Jane on the River Hamble,

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