Spectator Life

The British are, on the whole, rather rubbish at languages. We all know people who live up to P.G. Wodehouse’s description of the ‘shifty hangdog look which announces that an Englishman is about to talk French’. As more of the world speaks English, our monolingualism is getting worse. According to the British Council, only one in three of us speaks a second language. But it’s not entirely our fault – we’ve been set up to fail by our education system. The national struggle with languages starts young. The first time most of us will encounter a modern language – usually French – is at primary school, where its teaching is patchy to say the least.

The French, according to the enshrined belief system that I grew up with, are work-shy layabouts. They never turn up for a job on time as they’re too busy drinking wine for breakfast. And once they do finally start, they break off almost immediately for a two-hour lunch with more wine before dithering about a bit and then finishing early. If anyone threatens these unproductive practices, they blockade ports or set fire to lorries full of lambs.  We British, by contrast, have work ethic running through our veins. We fill every unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, as Kipling put it. They ridicule us as a nation of shopkeepers, but this is mere jealousy – we are strivers while they are hopelessly lazy shirkers.

I’m always a bit wary when invited for the first time to a dinner party at a friend’s home; some of the least enjoyable social occasions I've ever attended have been misleadingly advertised as such. The inevitable email about ‘dietary requirements’ has been duly responded to. You’ve muttered to yourself about the time (8 o’clock? Why so late?) and worked out that because your hosts (and I use that word advisedly) live on the other side of London, you won’t be in bed before midnight. And the route is terrible – but never mind, it’s lovely to be invited to someone’s home for dinner, isn’t it? Why would anyone cook you a meal they've never attempted before? And how come some people are incapable of understanding cooking times? Welcome to a bad dinner party.

The most likely winner of tomorrow’s Sky Bet Ebor Handicap (3.35 p.m.), the most valuable flat race handicap in Europe, is Sweet William. John and Thady Gosden’s four-year-old gelding is going for a four-timer and he will land a £300,000 first prize if he achieves it. Those canny enough to have bagged fancy prices on the favourite can feel pleased with themselves, but odds of no bigger than 7-2 are not for me in a 22-runner handicap in which lots can go wrong for any horse. Furthermore, while Sweet William is certainly not ground dependent, his best run came last time out at Glorious Goodwood on heavy ground, so the likely fast ground may not be ideal. As usual, I would prefer to look away from the favourite for value, especially with the sponsors offering eight places.

Cast your minds back 25 years, when Cher’s ‘Believe’ was the biggest hit of the year and Nokia dominated the mobile phone market. These were simpler times. They also happened to better times, at least from a movie perspective. We had The Truman Show, Saving Private Ryan, There's Something About Mary and American History X. 1998 also saw the release of Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels, arguably the best British gangster movie of the 1990s, maybe even all-time. For some unfathomable reason, the Hatfield-born director, producer and screenwriter opted to ‘branch out’ and try his hand at making different types of movies Guy Ritchie’s debut feature, which celebrates its 25th birthday at the weekend, had it all: gangsters, guns, great jokes, and a compelling plot.

I’m hiking along a footpath through glorious English countryside, across lush green meadows framed by ancient woodland. I’ve hardly seen a soul today, just a few solitary dogwalkers. I’ve been walking all day and my legs are aching, but I can’t recall the last time I felt so contented, so alive. Welcome to the Essex Way, an epic walking trail that runs right across this rugged county, from Epping, on the edge of London, to Harwich, on the North Sea. I first walked the Essex Way, 81 miles from end to end, a few years ago. Like a lot of weekend hikers, I’d done a fair bit of walking in National Parks like the Lake District and the Peak District. What makes the Essex Way so different is that it runs through landscape which most folk dismiss as bland commuter belt.

Do you take it? If not, the chances are you’ll know someone who does. In an age of insomnia, melatonin has become a must-have sleep aid; as ubiquitous as yoga or herbal tea. In America, it is available over the counter and, according to The National Sleep Foundation charity, 27 per cent of adults take it. The use of melatonin has more than quintupled between 1999 and 2018. In the UK, where it is prescription only, melatonin use rose by nearly 900 per cent between 2008 and 2019, and many more of us – exact numbers are unknown – buy it unlicenced online. ‘People say it’s safe because it’s natural. Well, Vitamin A is natural.