Richard Morrison is chief music critic of The Times. He is a regular columnist, writing mainly on music, arts and culture en-uk Tue, 30 Oct 2007 15:37:29 GMT Copyright 2007 Times Newspapers Ltd. custserv@timesonline.co.uk http://www.timesonline.co.uk Sat, 11 Jul 2009 01:17:53 GMT Newspapers 144 21 http://www.timesonline.co.uk http://images.thetimes.co.uk/TGD/picture/0,,116979,00.gif Richard Morrison Wed, 08 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT 2009-07-07T07:04:11Z There’s a whole category of threats, insults and exhortations that angry people shout without literally meaning what they say. “Go to hell” is an obvious example. (Pragmatically speaking, how would that help to resolve a dispute?) That uncouth American riposte “kiss my ass” is another. I mean, really? Wouldn’t you rather have your rump pecked by someone you actually liked? Richard Morrison Wed, 01 Jul 2009 00:00:38 GMT 2009-06-30T05:31:40Z As the great Louis Armstrong was wont to sing: what a wonderful world! They are frying eggs on the roads of Hendon. Hemlines are up, tanned thighs on full display — and that’s just the blokes at The Times. It’s almost my birthday: 43 again, for a record 12th time. Andy Murray, England’s new Scottish hero (actually, England’s first Scottish hero ), is still on course to slobber over the silverware on Sunday. And, joy of joys, eco-warriers are back! Not only back, but squatting all over England, like a little army of high-minded frogs. Richard Morrison Wed, 24 Jun 2009 00:00:41 GMT 2009-06-23T04:24:13Z I often wonder what would have happened if that estimable Victorian institution, the All England Croquet Club, had a) stuck to croquet&#59; or b) chosen a different suburb of “sarf” London in which to set up its new-fangled tennis tournament in 1877. Would millions now be glued to hoop-by-hoop coverage of the World Croquet Championships? Would the papers be full of letters about grunting croquettistes? Or would Tooting Bec now be mentioned by tennis fans in the same reverential tones as Flushing Meadows? Sat, 20 Jun 2009 00:01:24 GMT 2009-06-19T02:39:12Z Ratty and Mole are no more. Toad Hall is long gone. The wind is still in the willows, but it’s the chill wind of change. Kenneth Grahame’s 1908 children’s classic has been made “relevant— not once, but ten times over. Oh heavens, what next? Richard Morrison Wed, 17 Jun 2009 00:00:50 GMT 2009-06-16T08:34:59Z Yes, I remember Adlestrop. I’m old enough. As a nipper, en route to family holidays in the Cotswolds, I even passed through this, the most famous village railway station in the world — though, unlike in Edward Thomas’s poem, the train didn’t stop (“unwontedly” or otherwise) for me to hear all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire chirruping in euphonic polyphony.