The Blue Remembered Hills™

A month ago a correspondent sent me this  link  to an article about the eighty-seven-year-old Patricia Cavendish O'Neill's latest me...

There's something terribly bleak about pile upon pile of the ephemera of past lives – dead people's stuff – and so much of it, that ...

Of all the faces, famous and not, that I saw at the 59th Annual Winter Antiques Show preview (one of a series of events organized by th...

Somewhere between the Medieval Climactic Anomaly and the Little Age Age a nineteen-year-old and not-yet-sainted English king had the no...

I don't consider myself to be a "fan." I don't seem to have the ability to be passionate, to the nth degree, about much, i...

"This place has been around for a few generations, and the marble-lined walls and tiled floors haven’t changed a bit. And the homey old...

Strafed by flies circling the only sunny spot on the restaurant terrace, ruminating on both bread and life, and glamoured by the play of ...