“I have, for years, suffered from a terrible affliction. None that might affect my health – at least it hasn’t yet – more my sanity; I have an uncontrollable tendency to double book myself.” Larry learns a lesson in diary mismanagement…
“We only play to a minimum of 80,000 people,” says the Turkish rock star with an ironic glint in his eye as he builds a pyramid out of macadamia nuts on the table that sits between us…
“I have long held a desire to see the Northern Lights. Long before, in fact, Joanna Lumley ventured to Norway and set a million people on a similar course…” Larry packs his thermals and heads north; but this is Larry we’re talking about, so not everything can go to plan…
“Fresh from a £24 million renovation, The Caledonian now boasts two restaurants by the Galvin Brothers and a Guerlain Spa…” Alwynne tries Edinburgh’s plushest new arrival on for size…
“My favourite moments in Paris are when I feel I’m bushing right up against its golden age – that early 20th century heyday when Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Picasso and a pantheon of other cultural icons roamed…”
“The Queensberry is enshrined in a set of four terraced houses built in 1771 by the 8th Marquess of Queensberry, father to the better known John Sholto Douglas who lent his name to the famous boxing rules…”
“What good things spring to mind when you think of Southampton? The Titanic, up to a point. Some fine medieval buildings. And, perhaps, the Spitfire, which was first designed here.”
“Beirut is a vibrant and colourful city attempting to emerge from troubled times. A mix of communities and subdivides speak Arabic, French, English and Armenian, across dozens of religions.” David J Constable reports…
“Arriving at Les Sources de Caudalie is a little like entering Wonderland, where nothing is quite as it seems and everything leaves you grinning like a Cheshire Cat…”
“I’m reluctant to write about this but I will. Not out of obligation but because I don’t really want to reveal a secret I’d rather keep. Four years ago I went to Croatia…” Larry divulges a long-held desire for prime Adriatic property…
“I’m sitting in the Super Class of the TurboJet feeling slightly seasick as I try to figure out why the first class compartment smells like an onion bhaji and how much more lurching my rickety sea legs can withstand…”
“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…