Columnist and Surbiton resident Becky Mayhew takes a whimsical look at the goings-on in the Queen of the Suburbs.
Take cover and batten down the hatches, for ’tis the season to be germy. We’re nostril deep in the perilous certainty that ‘there’s definitely something nasty going round’, and if you haven’t yet spent a week snotting into your sleeve and binge-eating Strepsils, you’re either dead or bionic. If it’s the latter, keep it quietREAD MORE
As I write this, it’s discreet, almost subliminal. By the time you read this, it will be inescapable, irrefutable. We are being Christmassed! There I am on a hot, sunny Saturday, standing in the supermarket perusing the cake aisle, as one does when one is feeling jaunty, and my eyes drift over the apple pies,READ MORE
A maths puzzle. What is the sum of 372 hours queuing at Chessington World of Adventures + 211 trips to the Kingfisher x 78 cups of coffee consumed while staring into the middle distance in soft play areas + 102 laps of Richmond Park trying to find a parking space ÷ 3 minutes of frisbeeREAD MORE
We need to talk about something that’s been bothering me. Apparently, within our humble town, we have a village. Its exact boundaries are unclear (I’m waiting for a call back from the Ordnance Survey), but it appears to be the bit of Maple Road between Gordon Bennett! and The Grove pub. It’s a small village,READ MORE