Browsing: The Idler

Musings Illustration (c) Harry Chapman
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“It was nearly two weeks ago. A Saturday. I was catching an evening train down to Barham. The day was damp and drizzly and the tube and station were crawling with the strident remnants of a football match.”

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“The switch at Bangkok was smooth, but the jet lag was rearing its ugly head and the floor was starting to swim.” A science-turned-English teacher reports from Malaysia…

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We had a long weekend for Deepavali. We got a 50-minute flight to Kuala Terengganu where we stayed the night and got the 7.30am boat to Perhentian Basar, an amazing tropical island. There were monitor lizards up to three-feet long prowling around…

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“This trip has NOT gone to plan.” A well-meaning Eliot Ward writes home from distant Malaysia where, as a Cambridge science graduate, he was sent to teach…English.

Musings Camden Lock (c) Harry Chapman
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“I walked to Oxford Circus yesterday. Joined the canal at the bottom of Agar Grove. Reclaimed the city as only walking can. It is neither as big nor as scary as it appears.”

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“I could stab him with a cocktail stick! I’d go down in history as the man who attacked the Deputy Prime Minster with a buffet accessory.” Jonesy meets Nick Clegg in Whitehall. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…

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You have snagged yourself a Valentine’s date with a beautiful, mysterious, curvaceous bundle of trouble. What’s an intelligent, urbane man about town to do by way of preparation? A few words of advice from Lady Lavinia…

Fiction Brown Lake 9 (c) Harry Chapman
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“Frank had been swimming ever since he could remember. His parents had owned a house down by the waterfront in Mosman, inside Sydney’s great Harbour…”

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Wishing you all a very merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Eat, drink, be merry, and protect your fine cognac from that thieving white-bearded chap with the poorly tailored red outfit…

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Unless you are over 90 you will not have personal experience of fighting in a World War. To help us understand, Brain Hemingway shares extracts from the World War II diaries of his father Paddy, fighting in the RAF.

Musings Broken King (c) Harry Chapman
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The sun periodically burned through the blanket of cloud so I chanced an outside table at one of the cafés on Swain’s Lane. I sat, looking enviously over at the well-heeled diners tucking into mountainous salads at Kalendar and Café Mozart.

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