Jeremy Clarke

Jeremy Clarke writes the The Spectator Low Life column.

Low Life

French tag sales are good for my mental health

It is refreshing and enlivening to be among the poor for a change

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

The magic of Anthony Powell

As the radioactive liquid flowed into my veins, I found my page and was transported to a literary luncheon in 1969

By Jeremy Clarke

Low Life

From half a shelf to a library: my life in books

There was a time when I couldn’t afford to buy books; now I have a metric ton

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

I was the only Trump supporter among the olive-pickers

Warned in French that I was for the Donald, the Armenian stepped closer to scrutinize me

By Jeremy Clarke

Drink

The joy of red wine

Pretty much overnight, I have developed a taste for it — and life has become easier

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

Is my phobia of upmarket restaurants misplaced?

For all its art and famous clientele, the Colombe d’Or is no more than an upmarket canteen

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

We’ve gone from summer to winter in the course of an afternoon

Sunless Provence is grim. The locals go from semi-nudity to dressing like Nanook of the North

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

How I won €160 by mistake

Thanks to our local bar, I ended the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe with bulging trousers

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

French gambling is a mystery to me

Would someone please help me place a bet on the Arc de Triomphe?

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

A lament for the foreign correspondent’s house — and his hospitality

He claimed to love riots, and I have no trouble believing it

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

A relic of the golden age of motoring

The A272 through Sussex epitomizes everything I love about the England that once was

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

How to survive a heatwave

My friend the carpenter bee has expired, the dog can’t move and even the Provençal French see la canicule as an ordeal

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

Bad news from my oncologist didn’t spoil my joyous reunion with my grandson

I hadn’t seen Oscar since Christmas, and had spent months looking forward to his visit

By Jeremy Clarke

Home

Would this Marseille-bound flight be the death of me?

As the chap I was wedged against coughed and sneezed his mask awry, I look out of the window and thought about dying

By Jeremy Clarke

Low Life

What angry young French men want

As I bought the drinks, Didier told me that voluntary euthanasia was in and casino capitalism out

By Jeremy Clarke

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