by Caspar Bowes

Looking upstream from the head of the mighty Gaffer's Pool on the River FindhornI was in the north of Scotland last week on a boys' fishing sojourn, probing the dampness between the Findhorn's banks for the salmon that made no effort to hide their presence, sloshing, porpoising and jumping as they s…

I find within myself the tendency to believe, when dwelling on such things (not often, it must be said; perhaps once a month at a most generous estimate) that our vinegar fungus (mère, in the French tongue) is a contented entity.To give you a brief, potted history (in so doing I fear I have n…

Sand gives way to limestone in the soils to the north of Châteauneuf-du-PapeThe length of Pall Mall is festooned with smart clubs, all offering the chance to step out of the hurly-burly of the street outside (more or less of a hurly burly, one wonders, than when the area was frequented by thos…

Other end of the day, but the same viewI've just come in from the garden. 22.17 and still the last vestiges of the day linger. And Being outside again gave me that feeling - a feeling I have increasingly often at this time of year - a wondering: why do we spend so much time indoors? …

A cool and persistently wet Sunday early in a Wiltshire June seems as good a place as any to talk about Bordeaux. From the depths of an en primeur campaign one gets a particular view of the market and a campaign like the present one (I say "like" although I cannot recall any precedent to this curiou…