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I was drinking a Mützig beer near Bukavu on the Congo border a week ago with a Rwandan when the BBC World Service headlines described a...

For the last six months or so, I have been engaged in a mammoth reading project which is the biggest one I have ever undertaken...

"Odesa. The doctor I went to in London. Remember? I read this morning: her clinic in Odesa was less than a kilometre from where those...

‘The Death of Grass’ is a post-apocalyptic novel written in 1956 by English novelist Samuel Youd under the pen name John Christopher...

I am frequently surprised by concatenation, when a series of events, issues or conversations occur more or less at the same time...

“I have not voted for you lot.” the young woman said, jabbing her index finger into the blue rosette pinned to the chest of the man...

In 1947 Maurice Wilkes invited his brother Spencer to spend a weekend on his farm on Anglesey, an island off the Welsh coast...

Walking across Edinburgh’s Waverley Station, I happen to be following a man carrying a holdall with a big logo on it announcing “Crusaders”.

How we sniggered, my wife and I. Before we had even bought our house in the village of Vayrac in the Lot Department in south-west France...

A few days ago, I was invited to a Ramadan Sohoor gathering by one of my vendors along with almost one hundred other guests. As is...