Happy Holidays From Barbara Taylor Bradford & Robert Bradford

Do you know a Literacy Hero?

I’m supporting the National Literacy Trust’s search for Literacy Heroes and believe it’s important to inspire and give confidence to the next generation to develop their literacy skills.

New National Literacy Trust research out today shows that more children are embarrassed to be seen reading and that they’re reading less regularly than ever before. See www.literacytrust.org.uk/media

Anyone can be a Hero. A young person or adult who’s overcome challenges; an author who’s inspired people to read; a teacher or librarian; a volunteer in your local community; or even a celebrity.

My Literacy hero is:

Freda Taylor & Barbara Taylor (Age 3)

My mother, Freda Taylor

My mother is my literary hero. She had a great love of books, and because of her, so do I. When I was small she taught me to read, and when I first went to nursery, I was the only child in the class who could do that. I was four and a half years old. She soon got me a library card at our local public library. I was five, or six at the time. Books became part of my life as a little girl. And they still are today.

She helped me to tackle the classics, and by the time I was twelve I had read most of Charles Dickens’ books and those by Charlotte, Emily and Ann Bronte. As a special treat, she would often take me to the Parsonage in Haworth where the sisters grew up. I was fascinated by their childhood writings, which were on display. In a certain way they were my inspiration, as was my mother.

Why not give a child you know a book and help them to learn to read it? Or an adult who needs help for that matter? You will introduce them to captivating places created by a writer's talent and imagination, and give them pleasure. 

Who’s your Literacy hero? Nominate today at: www.literacytrust.org.uk/heroes

Our Beautiful Little Bichon, Chammi, Has Gone To Doggie Heaven

Our beautiful little Bichon, Chammi, jumped onto a twinkling star on Saturday night (September 21) and went up to Doggie Heaven. Waiting for her was Beaji, her beloved companion of a lifetime, whom she had missed so much. Beaji had gone ahead three years ago, much to our sorrow.

Chammi became ill unexpectedly on Friday evening (Sept 20) and was rushed into the Blue Pearl Veterinary Hospital, one of the best in Manhattan. She had suffered a seizure. Our wonderful vet, Dr. Barbara Kalvig was in constant touch with the doctors at the hospital, and with Mohamed, who runs our household, and looks after Chammi when we are away. Chammi was seventeen years old, but with her glossy white fur and sparkling brown eyes she looked like a puppy, and everyone remarked on her beauty.

We were in Los Angeles when this happened, but we caught a plane on Saturday morning and were back in time to say farewell to our darling pet, who had “written” so many books with me. Now, when Bob and I look up at the stars at night we can see Chammi nuzzling Beaji, as she always did. They are reunited at last. We will miss them both, but they will always be in our hearts.

So Long To One Of Television's Greatest Stars: Sir David Frost 1939 - 2013

Bob and I were very saddened to learn of the death of Sir David Frost. He was far too young to die, and he will be missed, not only by his wife and three sons, but all of his friends and colleagues around the world.

I did many television shows with David over the years and always enjoyed them. He was quite extraordinary, an incredible interviewer, and managed to get so much information out of his interviewees, myself included. This is because he was so very warm, friendly and chatty. Under his benign gaze he made everyone feel at ease. Like everyone else, I always forgot about the camera when talking to him. And then... WHAM came the unexpected question, asked in such quiet tones. Everyone answered including me.

He was a superb journalist and one of television’s greatest stars. I don’t believe anyone will ever forget the Richard Nixon interviews on American television. Not one network wanted to finance him to do those interviews. So he financed them himself. And what a hit they were!

I remember when Bob and I rushed to see the play about the Nixon interviews and then the movie, Frost Nixon. I ran into David in New York and he told me how much he had enjoyed the play and the movie. And so did we.

Last year, Bob and I went to dinner at Scott’s Restaurant in London, and who should we bump into but David and his wife Carina. We chatted for a while, catching up and reminiscing. Now he is gone. But he will never be forgotten. He was one of the greats of television, and there was nobody quite like him.

Duc: A reporter's love for the wounded people of Vietnam

Uwe Siemon-Netto, a friend of mine for many years, who is married to one of my dearest friends, Gillian, was a war correspondent most of his working life as a journalist. Last year he started to write a memoir about his years covering the Vietnam War. Every week or so, he sent me a chapter, and he had me hooked until I'd read the last one. I highly recommend this extraordinary bit of storytelling at its best. Here is the review I wrote.

"Uwe Siemon-Netto's memoir about his years as a war correspondent in Vietnam is one of the most touching and moving books I have read in a very long time. It is also hilarious. This renowned journalist, a longtime war correspondent for various German newspapers, made me both sad and happy. I did cry at times, but I also laughed. He took me on a splendid journey from Saigon to Hue and back again, always captivating me with his memorable talent and his unique way with engaging words and phrases. I couldn't get enough of his anecdotes about his little friends, a group of street urchins. They slept in his ramshackle car at night, protesting they were doing him a favor by guarding it. his vivid writing brings alive all kinds of unusual cosmopolitan "characters" he met, as well as the innocent victime and brave survivors of this war, in particular the everyday people of Vietnam. His genuine sympathy for the Vietnamese, and his understanding of the war that engulfed them helped to make this a powerful read."

-- Barbara Taylor Bradford


Order your copy from Barnes And Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/duc-uwe-siemon-netto/1116031951?ean=9781482692808

Also on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Duc-reporters-wounded-people-Vietnam/dp/1482692805

Manhattan romance: Barbara Taylor Bradford's New York home is a shrine to her success — and her English roots

(April 28, 2013)

The bestselling author Barbara Taylor Bradford is ensconced in an armchair in her cosy blue sitting room, contemplating a challenge harder than writing any book. She and her film-producer husband, Bob — they have been married for 49 years — want to downsize, and she is both dreading and relishing the thought of decluttering their lives. “We’ve got such a lot of stuff,” she proclaims in a voice that is still broadly Yorkshire, but has a Manhattan twang.

Their home is a shrine to the 79-year-old novelist’s successful career. Rows of her books, in multiple languages and in paperback editions or bound in leather, are in the library. Old publicity posters featuring a younger, blonder, slimmer Barbara hang on the walls. There are knick-knacks and photographs everywhere — a snapshot of Taylor Bradford receiving her OBE from the Queen takes pride of place, but I also count pictures of three British prime ministers, two former first ladies and the actor Christopher Plummer, a close friend. “I gave a dinner party here for my biographer, Piers [Dudgeon],” she says. “ It was a lovely affair, and halfway through the evening I caught his eye. I think he was a bit overwhelmed. He gave me this look, as if to say, ‘Oh, Barbara, you have done well... from Leeds to all this.’ And yes, I have. I’m proud of everything I’ve achieved.”

We are sitting in a lovely room, decorated in shades of blue and cream. It has a plump sofa with overstuffed cushions, comfortable chairs, tasteful art on the wall and a huge wooden cabinet filled with blue and white china. We could be sitting in a country house anywhere in England, but we are in the heart of Manhattan, in the sprawling 13-room apartment on 52nd Street where she and Bob have lived for nearly 18 years. Looking out from the sixth-floor windows, there are views of the 59th Street Bridge. Across the East River, a neon Pepsi sign written in dramatic art deco script is visible in Long Island City.

The "Blue" Room

The story goes that the actress Joan Crawford, who was on the board of Pepsi when she was married to its chief executive, Alfred Steele, had the sign erected opposite River House, the very block where we are sitting, in a fit of spite after the co-op board vetoed an application by the actress to buy one of its flats. The story is an urban legend, but it seems fitting — a strong woman getting her revenge on the people who crossed her could be a plotline in one of Taylor Bradford’s novels.

The River House Apartment Building

It is a very English home, the writer acknowledges, echoing a childhood spent in Leeds, where her first job was in the typing pool at the Yorkshire Evening Post. “I like comfortable houses, places where you can sit and read a book or watch television,” she says. “I want Bob to feel that it’s restful here. I hate houses that look like they’ve been designed by somebody else, and you don’t feel you can sit down or you’ll ruin the effect.”

The couple, who have no children, have lived in Manhattan for nearly 50 years: this is their third home in the city. They bought the 5,500 sq ft flat for $4m in the mid-1990s and spent another $2m fixing it up. Taylor Bradford says they were attracted by the light and the views — the elegant living room, which has a wood-burning fireplace, the library and the dining room all look out over a swathe of the East River and are bathed in natural sunlight.

Bradford's Dining Room

It is quite a change from the bizarre dark interiors they inherited — there was red vinyl on some of the walls, and many original decorative touches had been taken out. Now it is light, bright and airy. “I decorated it myself,” Taylor Bradford recalls. “I used to write decorating books and I had an interior design column, so I knew what I wanted. It took eight months and I didn’t have a single argument with Joe, my contractor. He said I was the only client who’s ever given him a board for every room, with all the colours and materials. I didn’t break down any walls, but I put in some new floors and added mouldings.”

Barbara's Home Library

The public rooms are large by Manhattan standards, and there are covetable antiques, including art deco and Biedermeier furniture. White orchids are everywhere, and candles give off the tangy scent of grapefruit. There is a delightfully kitsch bar, with seats that once belonged in a 1920s ice-cream parlour. “Whenever we have company, all the men gravitate here,” Taylor Bradford says.

Happy hour at home for Barbara and Bob at their bar

The couple’s bedroom, in peach and blue, would be grand enough for any of her heroines, although I’m sure the next owners will want to update it. A painting of Gemmy, the couple’s first bichon frise, takes pride of place above the dressing table. They are devoted to the breed: their current dog, 17-year-old Chammi (short for champagne), has just been taken out for a walk by one of their two housekeepers, and is having her paws dried by what sounds like a hairdryer. They also have a house manager, Mohammed.

Any writer would envy Taylor Bradford’s spacious study, converted from a bedroom, with a desk looking out onto the art deco building next door. There is a computer, used for email and research, but she still writes her books on an old IBM typewriter: “I can’t think on a computer — I need to see things on paper.” She has written 28 books, including the bestseller A Woman of Substance, selling more than 88m copies; her novels have been translated into 40 languages and distributed in 90 countries.

Her work ethic is admirable for a woman of her age. She puts in 10- to 12-hour days and delivers a book a year to her publisher, HarperCollins. She shows me the plotlines for her next work, a two-book saga that will cover the years 1913 to 1945. The first book is titled Cavendon Hall and the second The Saga of Cecily Swann. “It’s not like Downton Abbey — I thought of it before that was even on television,” she says. “It’s about two girls, an aristocratic girl and Cecily, from a family of retainers. They grow up together and remain friends all their lives.”

During the rest of the tour, I get a peek at Bob’s den, the screening room, the kitchen and breakfast room, and Taylor Bradford’s walk-in closet, made out of two maid’s rooms, which Bob calls “ the department store”. She plans to donate pieces by Pauline Trigère, a French-born American fashion designer, to a museum. In another cupboard is her collection of handbags — including 24 Hermès bags, bought by Bob to celebrate wedding anniversaries and other important moments.

Yet they have decided to sell up for $10.3m (£6.7m), as the flat is now too big for them. “It’s a lot of walking because it’s such a big place,” the novelist says. “We really only live in three rooms.” The plan is to buy a smaller flat in Manhattan and a house in Florida, where they can see out the winters.

The Living Room Fireplace

They’ll be leaving behind many happy memories. “We’ve had some wonderful dinner parties,” Taylor Bradford says. “Joan Rivers is such good fun — very ladylike and polite. She doesn’t mind at all if you comment on her latest facelift.

“She told such a funny story recently. She donates quite heftily, I think, to Prince Charles’s charities, and she was the only American, apart from diplomats, to be invited to Charles and Camilla’s wedding. She sent them a shopping bag full of the jewellery she sells on QVC as a wedding present, but there was obviously some confusion.” Apparently, Rivers asked the royal couple if they liked the gift she’d sent, only for Camilla to reply: “Oh, I haven’t decided yet what I want.” It turns out they thought they had to buy something, and Rivers had to explain that it was a gift. Taylor Bradford giggles at the thought of the Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall sifting through jewellery sold on the shopping channel.

She will be 80 next month, and is in fine health. She recently bumped into Joan and Jackie Collins in a restaurant. “Joan said conspiratorially, ‘We both have big birthdays coming up — what are you going to do?’ I replied that I’m doing nothing, just going out for dinner with my husband and some friends. Joan said she wouldn’t be having a big party, either.” She shrugs. “I feel young — like I’m 45. But when we sell this apartment, it’s going to be a whole new chapter.”

Listen to an extract from Taylor Bradford’s latest novel, Secrets from the Past

Secrets from the Past by Barbara Taylor Bradford is published by HarperCollins at £14.99. To buy it for £12.99, including p&p, call 0845 271 2135 or visit: thesundaytimes.co.uk/bookshop

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THE DEATH OF THE GREATEST WOMAN OF THE 20TH CENTURY... AND PROBABLY EVEN THIS CENTURY

APRIL 9, 2013

The grocer’s daughter from Grantham, who lived above the shop yet aspired to great things, has passed away. But she will never be forgotten.

                Margaret Thatcher, who was made a baroness for her services to her country by the Queen, was the greatest peacetime Prime Minister of the 20^th century. She was also the most powerful woman in the world during her reign at Number 10.

                And what a reign it was. When she became Prime Minister, Britain was at its lowest ebb, on the edge of a precipice, and in economic ruins. Certainly no longer considered a world power.

                She managed, through extraordinary intelligence, foresight, logic, brilliance, force of personality and self-belief to bring it back from the edge, and to safety and success. Such enormous success that she was adored  by her admirers, hated by those who didn't “get it,” and because they were envious and jealous of her amazing triumphs and popularity.

                She herself rose above all that nonsense, as she called it, and never lost sight of her goal: saving her beloved country and its everyday average people from disaster, bringing the land back to a prosperity it had not known for many years. She was able to do this because she had a true understanding of economics, the tyrannical unions and their domination, inefficient nationalized industries, and city councils. Blessed with a quantity of female practicality and common sense, she put that to good use. Most of all, she was a true visionary, saw the future and what Britain could become. Patriotic, humane, and compassionate, she came from the Middle Class and so understood the Middle Class, all of their problems, dreams, desires and needs.

                Eventually she made London the financial capital of the world because of the Big Bang. This was the name given to her deregulation of the City in 1986.

                She fought the idea of abandoning the pound sterling for the Euro, and won. How right she was, and we should be grateful to her for that foresight and her dogged insistence. She also fought the idea of a federal European State, and did not want Britain to become a member of the union. But nobody listened. Sadly.

                Maggie, as the populace loved to call her, brought Britain back to center stage. We loved her for it, and so did the rest of the world. She was a star… today they would call her a ROCK STAR! I rather think she was exactly that.

                Let’s not forget her closeness to President Ronald Reagan. She helped him to end the Cold War and bring down the Berlin Wall; and fought a war to keep the Falklands British and free of Argentinian control.

                It was a Russian journalist who called her “The Iron Lady,” a title she rather enjoyed. And in a way, I think she was tough, but in an elegant way. She was one of the most feminine women I have ever met. She loved clothes, shoes handbags and jewelry. I’ve always admired her for that, and for owning up to it. Power in a lovely dress… A Woman Of Substance indeed.

                She became Prime Minister in 1979, which was when my now-famous novel was published. We met through Irwin Bellow, who was chairman of Leeds City Council in charge of housing. He was brought in by Mrs. Thatcher to advise her about the selling of council houses to their tenants, not only in Leeds, but throughout the country. It was because of his help that she was eventually able to bring in a bill in Parliament enabling this to finally happen. He was her right-hand man in her endeavors, and she elevated him to the peerage for his hard work. He became Lord Bellwin.

                It was Irwin who arranged for Bob and I to go out to our first event at Number 10. It was an evening cocktail party given by Mrs. Thatcher for those in the Arts. Bob and I were thrilled to attend. I recall being at the end of a long reception room, talking to a small group of people, when I noticed I was facing an open door. I stepped to one side, and caught a glimpse of an oil painting of my great hero, Winston Churchill. Edging away from the group, I went and peeped around the door. This opened onto a small landing, and hanging over a downward-spiraling staircase was that huge portrait of the great man.

                Naturally, it was too tempting to resist. I stepped onto the landing, and went to get a better look at the portrait. A moment later I heard that inimitable voice, asking cordially, “Are you all right, Mrs. Bradford?”

                I swung around to face Margaret Thatcher. “I am, thank you, Prime Minister,” I said. “I was just standing here, thinking that as a little girl growing up I could never have imagined that one day I would come to Number 10 and stand here looking at the portrait of Winston Churchill.”

                “I know what you mean, Mrs. Bradford, neither did I,” she answered me with a twinkle in her eyes. As we walked back into the reception, she told me how much she had enjoyed my book, and I congratulated her on being the first woman to become Prime Minister.

                Like Winston Churchill, Margaret Thatcher saved Britain in the postwar years, just as Churchill had saved the country in the Second World War, not to mention the Western Civilization as well.

                Sir Winston had a State Funeral, and so should she. She certainly deserves it and should be honored in this way.

                What do you think? Please share your memories and comments with me.

Easter & Spring Greetings From Barbara Taylor Bradford

In Marriage There Is No Love Without Respect

I just read the article in yesterday’s Daily Mail (UK) by British reality TV contestant, Katie Hopkins about her husband.  I laughed out loud when she wrote that everything I said in my recent Daily Mail feature about my formula for a long-lasting marriage was tosh!  First of all she doesn't know me and has never met me.   My friends will tell you that I am opinionated, outspoken and very independent.  I tell everyone what I think whether they like it or not, and that includes my husband Bob.   What I was explaining in the piece I wrote for the Daily Mail last Saturday was that I think that respect and good manners are terribly important in the most intimate relationship of all – a marriage.

If you are going to be nasty to each other, why stay married?  Katie Hopkins says she adores her husband.  So do I – adore Bob – and he deserves it.  He loves me, spoils me, protects me, defends me and manages my career.  And yes, he too can be difficult, argumentative, and somewhat bossy.  That’s why I call his Bismarck!  Nobody is perfect but I believe that being nice to people you love is tremendously important whether that is your husband, a relative or a friend.  I’m not sure what’s wrong with that although Katie Hopkins seems to think there is.  The world we live in today is worse than it has even been and dangerous.  It is also full of a lot of unkind, destructive, and anti-social people who make life miserable for everyone, especially their families.    It’s bad enough our there without creating unnecessary conflict in the home.  For the record, I don’t bite my tongue, I don’t creep around Bob, and I don’t keep the peace if I think it is necessary to say what I think.  And bringing ‘generation’ into it is a load of tosh! It’s nothing to do with how old you are, it’s to do with character.Barbara Taylor Bradford OBE

 

Here is the article link in the Daily Mail by Katie Hopkins:

I love my husband - but respect him? Don't make me laugh!

Novelist Barbara Taylor Bradford said the key to marriage was admiring your husband. What tosh, says KATIE HOPKINShttp://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2289255/Katie-Hopkins-admits--I-love-husband--respect-Dont-make-laugh.html

And here is the link to my original article in the Daily Mail that Ms. Hopkins has referenced:

Novelist Barbara Taylor Bradford's secret for lasting love? Always let your husband win the rows!
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2286751/Novelist-Barbara-Taylor-Bradfords-secret-lasting-love-Always-let-husband-win-rows.html#ixzz2MyWXFb5K 

Have a look at both features and let me know which recipe to marital success you would choose.

A Trio Of English Writers In A French Restaurant In New York

What a pleasant surprise I had last night! I just had to share it with you...

Bob and I were out at our favorite French Restaurant in Manhattan, Le Grenouille (3 East 52nd Street). No, this wasn't our romantic Valentine's Day dinner celebrated a day early. We were entertaining Kate Elton, the Director of Fiction at HarperCollins (UK). Kate had some business here in NYC and we decided to show her a nice evening, while chatting about the imminent UK launch of my new novel, Secrets From The Past (coming out Feb 28 in the UK and April 9 in North America).

We were about to bite into our entrees, when from the corner of my eye, I spotted my dear friend, the eternally glamorous Joan Collins, dining on the other side of the restaurant. And sitting opposite Joan, her equally beautifully and talented sister, Jackie. Next to Joan was her charming husband, Percy Gibson. Not wishing to disturb their dinner, we elected not to head over to their table. Not yet, anyway. Besides, the Collins sisters hadn't yet noticed us on our side of the large room. Instead, I decided to have a little fun. I grabbed a sheet of paper from my purse and jotted down these words:" How fascinating to have three bestselling English authors under one roof in New York City."  Jackie, of course, is the author of 28 NY Times Bestselling novels (incidentally the same number that I've penned). Joan is much better known for her legendary role on TV's iconic series, Dynasty. However, Bob and I had most recently seen her in London at a book party for her autobiography, which too was a worldwide bestseller.

I waited a few moments to grab the attention of our waiter. Then I folded the piece of paper and had him deliver it to Joan & Jackie at their table. And then I watched in anticipation for a reaction. I was not disappointed. Joan unfolded the note and appeared to read it aloud to Jackie. She then began to look around the room for the sender. It took a few moments, but alas she spotted me. A delicious grin overtook her face. Joan raised her hand and waved to me in acknowledgement, followed by Jackie, who raised a glass in our direction. Later, on the way out, we shared a good laugh about the whole coincidence. No doubt, our dinner guest, Kate, must have felt a little star struck. 

And speaking of Le Grenouille, for thise seeking more info about this great restaurnt, here's a link to thier website: http://la-grenouille.com/about.html

You just never know who you might run into there...

Happy Valentine's Day 2013

2012 - A Year In 'Omnishambles'

It may have been an ‘omnishambles’, says Barbara Taylor Bradford, but there was plenty to celebrate in 2012 – not least a skydiving Queen
(From "The Lady" Magazine)

It has been quite a year: successes and stars galore, and so much more. Not to mention savage weather and any number of disasters. There were scandals, and shameful and squalid secrets have been revealed. The BBC, mired in accusations about concealing the alleged sex crimes of Jimmy Savile, is in total denial. Meanwhile, a peer of the realm, wrongly accused, is suing everyone. Quite right. 

When I take a keener look at the last six months, I do see a great many villains and idols with clay feet. But then, suddenly, along come the true heroes, cheering each other as they hug gold, silver and bronze. The Olympians made us all smile with pride, instead of shudder in disgust. 

Then there was superstorm Sandy, battering the east coast of the US and causing death, heartache and sorrow, plus tens of billions of dollars in estimated losses and damage. The November floods across England were just as horrifying and heartrending. The worst catastrophe was the tiny, North Wales city of St Asaph, which literally disappeared underwater. Yet again, we have learnt that we are helpless when it comes to the weather – we can’t control it. Nor can we control people for that matter. 



Undoubtedly, this has been an outlandish year. In fact, the Oxford English Dictionary has already coined a new word to describe 2012: omnishambles. 

But most of the events I remember best were truly spectacular and worthy of celebration: in June, the Diamond Jubilee. Whoever planned that spectacle should get a knighthood, a peerage, a duchy even. It was brilliant – but then we Brits do spectacle better than anyone else. 

The Queen and Prince Philip were magnificent, bright and sparkling, like the 100-carat diamonds they are. And how they managed to stand, smiling, for more than seven hours in the drizzle on the Royal barge, beggars belief. But what a thrilling sight the armada was, floating down the Thames. It reminded me of our great naval achievements and brought a poignant flash of memory of another armada… all those ships and pleasure cruisers, sail boats and yachts and barges, of all shapes and sizes, rushing across the English Channel to rescue our boys stranded on the beaches of Dunkirk in the Second World War. It was one of the greatest acts of bravery and it told the world who we are as a people. The Jubilee celebrations recaptured that spirit. 

Then there was Seb, who came running in, full of confidence and elan, with the Olympics tucked under his arm. He took my breath away. Despite all the mutterings of incompetence, the naysayers were proved wrong. The Olympics was a huge success. Our athletes showed us what they were made of… talent, power, guts and the determination to win. 

I watched the Olympics opening ceremony on a big TV screen, in a lounge, on a cruise ship. I know there were quite a few British people in the audience, because scattered around the room were people suddenly jumping up and standing to attention when the national anthem was played. My American husband, Bob, stood up, too. I choked up as I saw the story of Britain unfold in the production that followed. 

And then we got to see our Queen, acting alongside 007, Daniel Craig. What a thrill when she parachuted down into the Olympic stadium! Wild shouts and screams of amazement were heard around the room – although eventually we all realised that it wasn’t really Her Majesty jumping out of the plane. 

I never thought of an email as a deadly weapon, but a few anonymous messages, sent by a woman reservist in the US military to a Florida socialite, so-called, turned out to be lethal. Paula Broadwell’s emails warned Jill Kelley to stay away from ‘my guy’. They led a trail right to the doorstep of CIA director, General David Petraeus, a genuine war hero and a man of great bravery and stature. Eventually, the emails revealed an affair between Petraeus and Broadwell, his biographer. And so he resigned, which, in my view, is a great shame. 

I am so glad Nelson didn’t resign over his affair with Lady Hamilton. Then where would we have been? And what about General Eisenhower during the Second World War? He had a long affair with his driver, Kay Summersby, but he didn’t resign when the affair was discovered. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he went on to become US President. 

Talking of generals, most of the women I know are attracted to men in the military. It’s the uniform, of course. An impeccably tailored jacket, embellished with a blaze of medals, four silver stars on each shoulder, truly does give off the e ffluvium of power, machismo, command and heroism. Total aphrodisiacs to us of the fairer sex. 

But remove the uniform and the glory instantly fades. I was a young journalist in Fleet Street, and still single, when I met a general while working on a feature. He took a shine to me and relentlessly pursued me until I finally agreed to have dinner with him. He arrived to pick me up, but was no longer quite the same. Disappointingly, he had changed his uniform into ‘civvies’. The suit, he explained, was his ‘disguise’. But it wasn’t. What it did was reveal him to be, well, just another man. Suddenly, the glamour was gone. 

I am writing this column in Paris and not very far from my hotel is the Élysée Palace, where lives the president of France, François Hollande. As the EU faces crisis after crisis after crisis, his current mistress, Madame Trierweiler, and former, Madame Royal, are at war with each other. Royal, the mother of his four children, seems to be the favourite of the French at moment. Trierweiler, meanwhile, got black marks for causing trouble for Royal in her political campaign and was reportedly threatened with the sack by Paris Match, where she works as a journalist. 

So where does Monsieur le Président stand in all this? Who knows? Quelle omnishambles, indeed. 

And finally… it was great to learn that Great Britain has just been voted the most in”fluential nation in the world, by Monocle magazine’s Soft Power Survey. We have earned this top spot thanks to the Queen, the Olympics, our music and books and the millions of tourists who ”flock here. 

So Happy New Year to one and all. Let’s just hope it’s not another omnishambles.

Barbara Taylor Bradford’s new novel, Secrets From The Past, is published by HarperCollins on 28 February.