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Blakes Hotel in South Kensington was a particular favourite of mine during what I affectionately think of as my Restless Years.

Julie Burchill

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Julie Burchill
Age: 65
Born: 1959
Born: July 3
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Frenchay
Gloucestershire
Think
Restless
Thinking
Favourite
Hotel
Mines
Mine
South
Kensington
Particular
Affectionately
Years
Blake

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I jest, of course premature ejaculation isn't a laughing matter for anyone, except for your friends when you tell them about it on the phone the next morning. My first marriage ended because the main event was invariably over before my husband got his socks off.
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I don't really care what people tell children - when you believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, one more fib won't hurt. But I am infuriated by the growing notion, posited in some touchy-feely quarters, that all women are, or can be, beautiful.
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As a child, I wanted only two things - to be left alone to read my library books, and to get away from my provincial hometown and go to London to be a writer. And I always knew that when I got there, I wanted to make loads of money.
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Presley sounded like Jayne Mansfield looked - blowsy and loud and low.
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Monarchists frequently declare that without the royal family, Britain would be 'nothing.' What a woeful lack of love for one's country such statements express.
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Writing is more than anything a compulsion, like some people wash their hands thirty times a day for fear of awful consequences if they do not. It pays a whole lot better than this type of compulsion, but it is no more heroic.
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Is the raggle-taggle Brangelina tribe any more bogus than that of the landlocked yummy mummy who believes that she can drop half a dozen brats and still keep a modest carbon footprint? I don't think so.
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I don't have a spiritual bone in my body but what I am, is religious.
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I have always voted Labour and I always will. I have got to have one stupid, bovine part of me and that's the part that votes Labour.
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'Stress' was the catch-all every pamper-pedlar I spoke to used to explain why healthy women feel the need to be regularly patted, petted and preened into a state of babyish beatification.
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