The London Magazine
We had a good lunch recently at L'Escargot in Greek Street. Those assembled comprised my two pals both called Oliver, Anna and Robert the Suave. Also Mohammad Zahoor, the plucky owner of the Kyiv Post. It was a quiet Monday and we sat at the back, discussing the tribulations in Ukraine, the seamless staff of L'Escargot did their quiet, noble work
The plates were cleared and we leaned back. It was the time of looking round again. The period stage set of Bouestin is such that you expect to catch a glimpse of napkin-bibbed Clemenceau and ramrod Petain on the next table, wiping crumbs from their moustaches.
Tucked away behind the bustle of Leicester Square lies the restaurant Salt'n Pepper, which specialises in serving contemporary twists on traditional Pakistani, Pan Asian and Indian food.
GQ's decision to present the award of philanthropist of the year to Tony Blair represents an absolute nadir in the vision of the magazine. We can only surmise that the decision to confer the honour was made for reasons of publicity and to court controversy.
Luxembourg City lies in the broken jaws of a giant dragon. These are the Marquis de Vauban's great ramparts and buttresses. Perched above deep gorges the citadel is girded with miles of saw- toothed stone, impregnable and massive.