Recently, The 1885 Singers served up a buffet of Austro-German composers, featuring Brahms, Schumann, Korngold and Richard Strauss. Feelings of longing and loss gave the pieces cohesion, with a touch of spring in the flower songs of Strauss.
The 1885 Singers and in the front row L-R: Pianists Robert Bridge and Moritz von Freyhold, Baritone James Geidt, Soprano Iúnó Connolly, Musical…
When my friend Cristina and I stepped into Park Corner Brasserie at the London Hilton on Park Lane, we were hot, bothered and slightly out of breath. The journey had been a sweaty ten-minute walk from Victoria, and the city was doing its best to melt us into puddles. Within moments of arriving, however, we had been transported somewhere else entirely. Somewhere with island breezes, tropical…
If Saturday was all cowboy hats, country twang and Garth Brooks reducing 69,999 people to happy tears, Sunday at BST Hyde Park was something else entirely. It was glitter, perfectly synchronised dancing, screaming fans holding glowing orbs and a South Korean boyband setting that Royal Park ablaze with K-pop fire. Our very own reporter dad Mirko took his daughter Gaia along, joined by our lovely…
Forget the rest of any bucket list I may have had. Saturday night in Hyde Park, surrounded by 69,999 other souls in cowboy hats, watching Garth Brooks perform his first UK show in almost 30 years, was quite simply one of the most joyful live music experiences of my life. I am still emotional, and still wondering how a man can make an entire field of Londoners weep into their two pina…
King Charles and Queen Camilla have politely declined to unpack their slippers at Buckingham Palace, despite a £369 million glow-up that’s taken a decade. We can’t decide if this is peak “downsizing empty-nesters” or the poshest case of buyer’s remorse we’ve ever seen.
Imagine spending ten years having your entire house ripped apart. New wiring (the old…
Yesterday, it was officially the hottest day in 40 years. London had melted into a sticky, shimmering puddle and I was wading through it, late, with blisters bubbling on my heels, running towards the Royal Albert Hall in a state of considerable dishevelment. I arrived sweaty, flustered and deeply apologetic about both. I need not have worried. Every single person filing through those grand doors…
When a press release lands describing a show as a “climate change romantic comedy musical” and the venue is mercifully air-conditioned during the week London decided to melt into a puddle, you go. You go immediately. Last night I hauled my sticky, overheated self to The Other Palace in Victoria, slid into a cool velvet seat and watched two people on a stage do more for the environmental…
When an invitation lands promising a press view of the biggest Frida Kahlo exhibition ever staged in this country, you do not simply put on a sensible blouse and turn up. I turn up with a Frida dress, naturally (I did it also for the Mondrian exhibition). Mine came from the magical hands of Italian fashion brand Antica Sartoria, all embroidered flowers and full skirts with Frida’s image on it…
Forget the 90,000 pink cowboy hats and feather boas flooding into Wembley Stadium. While Harry Styles was whipping a generation of youngsters into a frenzy next door, supported by none other than Shania Twain, can you actually believe that? We, the rock rebels, the mums who still know every power chord from our mis-spent youth, were filing into the OVO Arena for a masterclass in unadulterated rock…
When an invitation lands promising an evening of tacos, frozen margaritas and a DJ spinning until late, all in honour of David Beckham’s favourite Miami taco joint landing in London, you cancel your Thursday night plans and you dig out your stretchiest waistband. Yesterday evening, Carolina and I did exactly that, and we are still thinking about the pork.
Coyo Taco has taken over a sleek spot…