Jonathan Self: November used to be a month of bleak fields and naked trees; this year we had summer flowers in bloom and ate lunch on the terrace
Jonathan Self discovers a name for his sense of unease caused by life being out of balance.
Jonathan Self discovers a name for his sense of unease caused by life being out of balance.
These days nobody would dream of keeping a wild animal as a pet, but there was a time, not so long ago, when a gentleman could stroll into Harrods and buy an elephant or an alligator. Jonathan Self explores the era of the exotic menagerie.
He's not talking about Country Life, of course. We're great.
An afternoon spent going through dusty old albums puts our columnist Jonathan Self in contemplative mood.
Water, water everywhere for Jonathan Self — especially in the places where you'd least want to have it.
Heard it on the grapevine? Then you're simply making use of one of your great evolutionary advantages, says Jonathan Self.
The reopening of a much-loved restaurant is, says Jonathan Self, like a joyous reunion with an old friend.
Forget bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens — Jonathan Self loves the sound of a burning log shifting in the stove and a tractor misfiring on its way up the lane.
The people who worked the patchwork farms of Ireland until just a few decades ago are all but gone, laments Jonathan Self.
Jonathan Self is toast-mad. His entire family is toast-mad. He's spent his life looking for the ultimate way of making the nation's favourite snack. Here's what he suggests you do.
A first encounter in decades with somebody hitching a ride prompts our columnist to look back on the days when hitch-hiking was entirely normal — and an incomparable way to get from A to Wherever.
A spell of time with a reduced sense of taste and smell proves a boon to Jonathan Self when it clears, giving him a new appreciation of some of life's joys.
Jonathan Self tells the story of a rather friendly rodent who seems happy to ride his luck.
Jonathan Self has nailed it, just as his twins leave for university.
How lovely to have a beautiful watch to order your life, says Jonathan Self; but how much better to have no need of one at all.
Our columnist's rare time to himself causes him to reflect on his encounter with a man who had nothing but himself for company for years on end.
The arrival of warmer weather heralds many joys — but also one very specific pain, as Jonathan Self grumbles.
Jonathan Self muses on birds with bad sense of direction, militant ramblers and the plight of a camel-herding nomad.
It's raining, and Jonathan Self is outside waiting patiently for his dogs to do their business.