I’ll be honest—I know next to nothing about wine. My knowledge of reds and whites pretty much stops at the supermarket offers and which one gives me the worst headache. But since moving to the Test Valley some 10 years ago, I’ve seen more vineyards than chalkstreams, and that got me wondering: why on earth are we suddenly surrounded by grapevines?
Soil, Sunshine and a Bit of Luck
Turns out, there’s a bit of a quiet wine revolution ...
As predictably as someone losing their tent on day one, the annual outrage machine has fired into action—this time over the sight of Palestinian flags waving in the dust and dry cider haze of Glastonbury.
Apparently, the mere presence of a flag is now cause for national alarm. And not just from the usual suspects on GB News who believe “woke” is a communist plot. No, even mainstream commentators have taken time out from defending oil ...
If you’ve ever wondered how many Palestinian children have to die before Britain’s so-called “opposition” party says something, the answer is apparently all of them. But only if they’re being killed by a country we call an “ally.”
Yes, while Gaza turns to ash, and entire families are wiped off the map before they even get a chance to flee, Keir Starmer and his Labour Party are doing… precisely nothing. Actually, scratch that ...
It’s been over twenty years since Britain marched into Iraq, led by Tony Blair’s messianic gleam and a now legendary claim that Saddam Hussein could launch WMDs before your kettle finished boiling. The fallout — chaos, death, lies, and the slow-motion collapse of a region — turned Blair into the go-to bogeyman of British foreign policy.
He’s been called a liar, a warmonger, and a war criminal — by the left, the centre-right, the ...
"Back in My Day..."
The summer of 1976 — the season Baby Boomers will cling to until the final jug of lukewarm Robinsons squash evaporates off a scorched patio. For those unfamiliar, 1976 was the year it got hot in Britain. Not real hot by modern standards, but hot enough for a few shirtless dads to mow the light brown lawn while “You to Me Are Everything” by The Real Thing warbled from a transistor radio. A time so beloved it’s been ...
