
Justin Brierley
Articles
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1 week ago |
thespectator.com | Aidan Hartley |Estella Shardlow |Justin Brierley |Grace Curley
Laikipia, KenyaI am grateful to David, a reader of this column, who kindly sent me a packet of old Kenya maps his father used when the family lived in Nairobi in the 1960s. David’s envelope took about six months to reach my postbox, which is good going, since I’ve received other letters posted several years before. I adore maps and own lots, rolled up in tubes, hanging on walls, with piles of them folded in drawers, dog-eared, rain-stained and scribbled on.
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1 month ago |
thespectator.com | Lee Cohen |Alexander Larman |Kara Kennedy |Justin Brierley
Imagine Prince Harry and Meghan Markle perched in their Montecito mansion, glowering at Donald Trump’s brazen, rebooted America. They’re not fleeing yet, but as progressive celebrities ditch Hollywood’s hills — Rosie O’Donnell settling in Ireland, Ellen DeGeneres nesting in Britain — might the Sussexes trail behind? We Yanks would rejoice. The spotlight sharpened last week when Harry’s US visa records hit the headlines on March 18, courtesy of a laudable Heritage Foundation lawsuit.
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1 month ago |
thespectator.com | Alexander Larman |Byron’s Women |cocaineBy James Delingpole |Justin Brierley
At one point during the part-concert film, part-documentary Hans Zimmer & Friends: Diamond in the Desert, super-producer Jerry Bruckheimer refers to Hans Zimmer as “the greatest living film composer in the world.” Zimmer, present when such flattery is offered, does not exactly nod in agreement, but nor does he laugh it off.
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1 month ago |
thespectator.com | Travis Elborough |Graeme Thomson Paul Thomson |Alexander Larman |Justin Brierley
When the Puerto Rican guitarist Carlos Alomar first met David Bowie, he didn’t think a man could turn a whiter shade of pale. The singer looked emaciated; his complexion teetered on translucency, and weighing only 95 pounds, the only signs of life were a pulse and a mop of orange hair. It was the mid-Seventies, and Bowie was touring America deep in the throes of addiction — the “darkest years” of his life — surviving on a paltry diet of red peppers, cigarettes, milk and cocaine.
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1 month ago |
thespectator.com | Freddy Gray |James Orr |Charles Lipson |Justin Brierley
You wouldn’t expect the Kennedy Center to exactly love J.D. Vance. But that doesn’t make the audience’s reaction to him showing up there on Thursday any less extraordinary. Vance went to the Kennedy Center with his wife Usha, to watch a performance by the National Symphony Orchestra, perhaps expecting a genteel evening at one of Washington’s most high-brow venues. Instead, the audience acted like a mob, booing him as he took his seat in a box.
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