Cleo Watson

Thursday

Cleo Watson

The nostalgic joy of Frinton-on-Sea

From our UK edition

For the recent heatwave, it was my mission to escape our little Wiltshire cottage, where it hit 35°C. It has one of those very poor structural designs unique to Britain that, like plastic conservatories or the Tube, is useless in hot weather. First, we went to stay with friends in Frinton-on-Sea with our English bulldog, who was born in nearby Clacton and is shamelessly happy to be back among his people. Some years ago I lived in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia, a living museum of America’s pre-revolutionary settler history. Frinton doesn’t go quite that far – there are no ersatz yeomen milking doleful cows – but to visit is to enter a time warp back to the mid-1930s. It’s the sort of place where Hercule Poirot might solve a crime while en vacances.

Friday

Cleo Watson

In defence of Dominic Cummings

From our UK edition

Sometimes it's tricky to be a friend of Dominic Cummings, especially if you’re also friends with Helen MacNamara. I worked with them both in government during the Covid pandemic and couldn’t have more admiration for either of them. I can remember with absolute clarity Dominic explaining in March 2020 how the NHS would crumble without a swift change of strategy. Helen was boundless in her support and sense. She was the most senior woman by a mile who, yes, had to argue for everything, from proper PPE for women to changing the rules on births and miscarriages to allow partners to attend, rather than open up pheasant shooting (incidentally Dominic agreed with her).

Saturday

Cleo Watson

The girls of St Thinian’s

From our UK edition

After the South American models Luisel Ramos and Carolina Reston starved themselves to death last year to try to reach size ‘zero’, the fashion world promised to be more responsible. It hung its head in shame, and even chivvied some size-12 girls on to the catwalk for London Fashion Week last month. So I imagine that most people think that the whole zero fad has finally faded away, and that teenage girls like me and my school-friends have developed healthier role models and a happier relationship with our food. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint any Spectator-reading parents, but in my experience it’s worse than ever. My school is deeply ordinary — a fee-paying school but not one of the famous ones, not particularly posh or expensive.