Croydon Airport, Southern England, 1923. Aviation was still pretty new, with planes made mostly out of plywood and canvas. Crossing the channel could be done from the deck of a luxury liner, or for a daring few, in a propeller-driven tent, with 2 leather seats and a sense of direction. The pilots were just mechanics with benefits, but they had an understanding and a kinship with their craft. Radios crackling, announcing Ginger was trying to get in touch with Biffo, navigating

If Fridays had faces, it would be the mug shot of a pair of donkeys. Unhurried, not bothered, standing in the most shetered part of a wet meadow, the very picture of end-of-the-week sufficiency. The error we make, according to most donkeys, is in seeing these sweet and gentle creatures as slightly under-evolved horses. It is a subject of both slight resentment and constant discussion in all places where donkeys gather. They readily admit they lack the sleek flanks and polishe

Vineyards are surely the most civilised of our ancient cultivations. Humanity seems to have evolved liking its plants arranged in tidy rows, but while carrots and corn stand tall and straight, like obedient soldiers, vines have a rebellious elegance that cannot be stood to attention. They lean and twist with weary dignity, brothers in arms, performing more important work.

On a rainy day last November, the humble baguette was acknowledged and enshrined forever by UNESCO as “a thing of exceptional interest for the common heritage of mankind.”

Larders. Everyone either has one or wants one. Even the word is a delight to say. Lah-dah....lah-dee-dah, I'm in the lah-dah.. The word of course, has Latin roots, and derives from Lardum - meaning pork fat or what we now call bacon. It was (and still should be) a kitchens inner sanctum. A holy place, robust and well-filled with strong white ceramics and jarred beans and jams. It's an interior designers dream..

As a wine area, the vineyards of Bergerac are seen by many as a bit of a “dabbler” - with some steady reds and winsome whites. They are all north of OK - but their sweetest secret is a little pocket of activity called Monbazillac. These relatively small parcels produce the most golden wines, hugged in autumn to a degree of ripeness known as “noble rot” - basically elegant mildew - that positively shine - showing up in tasting notes as honey, apricot, and spice; the Dordogne’s

Roman statesman and philosopher Cicero, confidently proclaimed that gratitude was not only the greatest of virtues, but the "Parent of all the others". What he could be forgiven for not knowing 2,000 years ago, was the positive impact that a practice of gratitude has on our emotional well-being, the strengthening of social bonds and our mental health.