A Cocktail for Men. And Stirling.
From the snowy slopes of the French Alps to Cosmopolitan chic of London, this particular combination of booze travels well.
From the snowy slopes of the French Alps to Cosmopolitan chic of London, this particular combination of booze travels well.
“A hubbub of excited noise and the turmoil of other people having a jolly good time crash into us as we enter the main restaurant.”
Since I started using the phone I’ve noted other earlier model Blackberry users looking it over with a hint of green in their gaze. This phone is a desired commodity.
Think late seventies when leather gloves were mandatory for men and driving a Ford Capri 3.0 S Mk III was tantamount to being a god…
Distance, difficulty and delays have never been barriers to the Arb travel team venturing forth…
Bula! As you might say as hop off the plane in Nadi, this might also…
“If you visit the restrooms at the Goring Hotel you might be forgiven for thinking you’ve taken a step back in time to a Victorian gallery of smut. Adorning the walls are a selection of Reubenesque beauties leaving very little to the imagination…”
The rain was shocking. Heavier than a scene from a Ridley Scott movie and I…
Might I point out that sprint has sprung. Isn’t it obvious? Cold wintery nights, grey…
“You can see Copenhagen’s balls from here!”. Excuse me? “What on Earth are you talking about” I said to Mr P, who was stunt double for Lady Stirling this particular evening. “Copenhagen, his balls, you can see them quite clearly from here”. He was right.
Scotch. Whisky. A dram. A splash. One for the road. Even the angels share. They…
“Country: Club. Gun: Shot. Agent: Stirling. Murder: A scotch. Skyfall: I think you mean Ashdown old chap, and like Bond this story starts with a woman wielding a gun to my detriment…” Stirling is outgunned in East Sussex…