MEMOIR
Wet feet, pisco sours, and the wonders of nature in the Southern Patagonian Ice Field.
On the sanctity of Britain’s blue plaque scheme—and the delightful hoaxes it inspires.
Tim Cooper pays tribute to fellow punk, Shane MacGowan.
How I would bend the ear of the late Terry Venables.
How Shehan Karunatilaka’s Chats with the Dead became Booker Prize winner The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida.
To mark the sixtieth anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy, Dominic Hilton recalls his giddy days in “Camelot”.
Full transcript of four speeches made by the hastily-appointed Toastmaster at the Annual Oxford and Cambridge Universities Dinner at the Residence of the British Ambassador to Argentina, on Thursday October 5th 2023.
On the fiftieth anniversary of the military coup in Chile, Dominic Hilton remembers an ill-fated city break he took to Santiago a few weeks before the start of the global pandemic.
Martin Amis was someone I thought of as a kind of elder sibling, hero, avatar, even scapegoat.
In 1909, a team led by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen set off to reach the South Pole. Here, for the first time, is an account of the expedition from the point of view of one of his dogs.
Dominic Hilton is stunned to discover that not everyone shares his reverence for Charlotte Wells’ acclaimed debut film.
Ever raised close to half a billion dollars for cancer sufferers? No? Then quit your moralising about Lance Armstrong, says Mitchell Belacone.
Tim Cooper recalls a surreal series of run-ins with former world-champion boxer Chris Eubank.
Jack Shamash laments yet another article about the Haçienda Club (by writing yet another article about the Haçienda Club).
“Call me a philistine, but I like art most when it’s good.” Dominic Hilton and friends visit a Banksy exhibition.
ASH Smyth looks out over mist-covered mountains, on Remembrance Sunday.
Thunderstorms, tapping out, and The Crown. The Queen’s death hit different in Buenos Aires, writes Dominic Hilton.
As grieving Britain plunges head first down a vortex of nostalgia, Dominic Hilton suffers an acid flashback to the time he met those other apparently-immortal national treasures… The Beatles.
At wintertime, Dominic Hilton finds himself at a loss in Buenos Aires.
From Buenos Aires, Dominic Hilton on escaping the threat of nuclear annihilation.
Dominic Hilton on the perils of his lifelong addiction to note-taking.
Ice baths and power cuts: Dominic Hilton endures a torrid summer in the city of Buenos Aires.
When Daniel Koch set out to return to Syracuse, New York during the pandemic, a simple journey turned into a voyage.
It was the first time I had heard the word Nazi. It was also the first time I heard that my grandfather had killed anyone.
Hiding in Buenos Aires, on the first anniversary of the death of Diego Maradona.
“You know perfectly well,” I whispered in her ear, “that no one who wears shoes like that ever went to Harvard.”