Not a very prettified pic I’m afraid, but here’s the thing: shopping the other day, I plucked half a dozen eggs from a shelf and only when I got home did I notice they were duck eggs, not hen. On a whim I thought I’d try making mayonnaise with them. Holy quacks, Batman! SO delicious – if you could make a sauce out of Ella Fitzgerald’s voice it would be something like this. Rich, creamy and mesmerisingly delicious. It is (autocorrect or no autocorrect) ducking gorgeous… who knew? Well, you did probably, but it was news to me … Message ends
Hoping very much that the duck eggs for the mayonnaise I posted about earlier today didn’t come from this … (via @ravelexi posted on Twitter by @NoContextBrits)
Breaking out from my social media holiday … #standwithbelarus
My new book #FrysTies is out tomorrow 👔 Ties are our most distinguished accessory, and each one tells a story – whether floral or fluorescent, striped or spotty. I hope you enjoy discovering the tales behind the ties.
The days are getting shorter and the lockdown looser now and so I am bidding farewell to #fryties with this last display of 3 from my favourite tie-makers. They are each small, independent, imaginative and talented. We start with Nino’s, of Soho’s Brewer Street. The son of a well-known London tailor, Franco Santoro, Nino has been making bespoke shirts and suits since 1993. This gorgeous tie is hand painted. I have a black and white version too. Pic 2 (swipe left) is from Penrose, who’ve been specialising in designing and making ties for years. This beauty reminds me of something sumptuously medieval – perhaps filtered through the mind of a Victorian like William Morris or Augustus Pugin. Pic 3 is the work of Magties, who made ties for me in the latter series of QI. Alan Brooker started the company in Brick Lane and says in his little biog on the Etsy page where he still sells his remarkable creations: “I built a client range including Sir Paul McCartney, Stephen Fry, Dr Who and James Bond to mention a few.” Only ties could place me in such company. It has been an unreserved delight to share neckties and cravats with you all. Your enthusiastic responses, witty participation and informed commentaries have lightened my days throughout this bizarre and unforgettable lockdown experience. We will none of us forget the months of seclusion, fear and uncertainty, but I hope most of us will have found plenty to enjoy too. A new kind of closeness with the natural world and with that mysterious entity Time; with friends, food, family, pets too and – yes – even something as silly as ties. Frivolous, facetious, facile and superficial as they may appear, ties can serve as windows into our mythologies; into the stories of our cultural, historical, economic, social lives, remembered and misremembered as they so often are. I hope amongst the 100 I shared with you one or two struck some kind of chord. Farewell then, loyal and friendly followers of #fryties. I’ll still be here on Instagram and maybe I’ll still post the odd tie as mood and occasion demand.
The days are getting shorter and the lockdown looser now and so I am bidding farewell to #fryties with this last display of 3 from my favourite tie-makers. They are each small, independent, imaginative and talented. We start with Nino’s, of Soho’s Brewer Street. The son of a well-known London tailor, Franco Santoro, Nino has been making bespoke shirts and suits since 1993. This gorgeous tie is hand painted. I have a black and white version too. Pic 2 (swipe left) is from Penrose, who’ve been specialising in designing and making ties for years. This beauty reminds me of something sumptuously medieval – perhaps filtered through the mind of a Victorian like William Morris or Augustus Pugin. Pic 3 is the work of Magties, who made ties for me in the latter series of QI. Alan Brooker started the company in Brick Lane and says in his little biog on the Etsy page where he still sells his remarkable creations: “I built a client range including Sir Paul McCartney, Stephen Fry, Dr Who and James Bond to mention a few.” Only ties could place me in such company. It has been an unreserved delight to share neckties and cravats with you all. Your enthusiastic responses, witty participation and informed commentaries have lightened my days throughout this bizarre and unforgettable lockdown experience. We will none of us forget the months of seclusion, fear and uncertainty, but I hope most of us will have found plenty to enjoy too. A new kind of closeness with the natural world and with that mysterious entity Time; with friends, food, family, pets too and – yes – even something as silly as ties. Frivolous, facetious, facile and superficial as they may appear, ties can serve as windows into our mythologies; into the stories of our cultural, historical, economic, social lives, remembered and misremembered as they so often are. I hope amongst the 100 I shared with you one or two struck some kind of chord. Farewell then, loyal and friendly followers of #fryties. I’ll still be here on Instagram and maybe I’ll still post the odd tie as mood and occasion demand.
The days are getting shorter and the lockdown looser now and so I am bidding farewell to #fryties with this last display of 3 from my favourite tie-makers. They are each small, independent, imaginative and talented. We start with Nino’s, of Soho’s Brewer Street. The son of a well-known London tailor, Franco Santoro, Nino has been making bespoke shirts and suits since 1993. This gorgeous tie is hand painted. I have a black and white version too. Pic 2 (swipe left) is from Penrose, who’ve been specialising in designing and making ties for years. This beauty reminds me of something sumptuously medieval – perhaps filtered through the mind of a Victorian like William Morris or Augustus Pugin. Pic 3 is the work of Magties, who made ties for me in the latter series of QI. Alan Brooker started the company in Brick Lane and says in his little biog on the Etsy page where he still sells his remarkable creations: “I built a client range including Sir Paul McCartney, Stephen Fry, Dr Who and James Bond to mention a few.” Only ties could place me in such company. It has been an unreserved delight to share neckties and cravats with you all. Your enthusiastic responses, witty participation and informed commentaries have lightened my days throughout this bizarre and unforgettable lockdown experience. We will none of us forget the months of seclusion, fear and uncertainty, but I hope most of us will have found plenty to enjoy too. A new kind of closeness with the natural world and with that mysterious entity Time; with friends, food, family, pets too and – yes – even something as silly as ties. Frivolous, facetious, facile and superficial as they may appear, ties can serve as windows into our mythologies; into the stories of our cultural, historical, economic, social lives, remembered and misremembered as they so often are. I hope amongst the 100 I shared with you one or two struck some kind of chord. Farewell then, loyal and friendly followers of #fryties. I’ll still be here on Instagram and maybe I’ll still post the odd tie as mood and occasion demand.
There comes a day in every man’s life when he needs to wear an elephant themed tie. Forward, Fox and Chave. How do they pronounce themselves? The Fox is easy enough, but Chave? Does it rhyme with “shave”, or is it frenchified into shahvay? It can’t be chav surely, a word thankfully well past its sell-by-date. The company started as a supplier of silk ties to high-street stores, but was bought in 2001 by current managing director Jemima Haddock. I suppose changing the name to Fox and Haddock, delightful and memorable (and easy to pronounce) as it would be, might have led people to suppose it was one of those Frog and Firkin type chain pubs rather than one of the country’s most brilliant and imaginative purveyors of silk ties, scarves and accessories for men and women. The women’s range includes an item called a “silk scrunchie”, which I think might refer to that sphincter-like object my women friends so often leave behind, an elasticated ring that I believe is meant to restrain hair but which, when I find under the kitchen table, in the car’s footwell or between sofa cushions, I use to hold bunches of parsley or stray pencils. @foxandchave are known for their imaginative use of art and artefacts. If you want a silk Frida Kahlo, Van Gogh, William Morris or Jackson Pollock, it’s the company for you. They do a Kandinsky necktie that is so lovely it’ll make you faint. Or maybe you want a tie or silk square depicting the Bayeux Tapestry or Magna Carta. Their great speciality is providing bespoke ties for the leading museums and art galleries as well as for individual customers. I believe you can upload a picture to their website and they’ll create something silky and delicious just for you. Fine idea for Father’s Day – too late this year, I’m afraid. Elephants don’t forget and I wear the elephant tie for a very special reason. One that I’ve forgotten.
A sweetshop of lickable, likeable candy pink ties, all from one maker today … and that maker is Duchamp. Despite the French name the company originated in Suffolk, a county best known for having the good fortune to border Norfolk. Founded in 1989 by Mitchell Jacobs, an ex-buyer for the Mayfair fashion boutique, Browns, Duchamp is headquartered in London where it has established a fine reputation for colourful (as you can see) men’s clothing and accessories. I wore more Duchamp shirts and ties than any other make in my 13 years hosting the BBC programme QI. The company was named after the French artist Marcel Duchamp because, according to Jacobs: “Duchamp turned everyday objects into art and I turned everyday icons of men’s fashion into wearable art”. Duchamp initially specialised in cufflinks and branched in 1992 into ties, and then clothing (shirts, trousers, blazers) in 2011. “There is a nod to chess, musical ideas and gentlemen’s games throughout the product” proclaims the @duchamplondon website. Marcel Duchamp was a keen (and very good) chess player as well as a painter and sculptor. I have gathered my pinkest and perkiest Duchamps for this midsummer posting, I have many others in more subdued colours, but this selection seemed most suitable for the summer solstice. For Pic 2 (swipe left) I finally got my hands on the Kandinsky Fox and Chave tie that I so raved about on Thursday. Isn’t it tasty though? I’m grateful for those who told me that before @foxandchave was bought by Jemima Haddock it had been founded by none other than Samantha Fox and Chas & Dave, the latter two fusing their name into Chave. I have strong reasons to believe that my leg was being pulled. Enjoy the longest day (or shortest, depending on which side of the equator you dress) …
A sweetshop of lickable, likeable candy pink ties, all from one maker today … and that maker is Duchamp. Despite the French name the company originated in Suffolk, a county best known for having the good fortune to border Norfolk. Founded in 1989 by Mitchell Jacobs, an ex-buyer for the Mayfair fashion boutique, Browns, Duchamp is headquartered in London where it has established a fine reputation for colourful (as you can see) men’s clothing and accessories. I wore more Duchamp shirts and ties than any other make in my 13 years hosting the BBC programme QI. The company was named after the French artist Marcel Duchamp because, according to Jacobs: “Duchamp turned everyday objects into art and I turned everyday icons of men’s fashion into wearable art”. Duchamp initially specialised in cufflinks and branched in 1992 into ties, and then clothing (shirts, trousers, blazers) in 2011. “There is a nod to chess, musical ideas and gentlemen’s games throughout the product” proclaims the @duchamplondon website. Marcel Duchamp was a keen (and very good) chess player as well as a painter and sculptor. I have gathered my pinkest and perkiest Duchamps for this midsummer posting, I have many others in more subdued colours, but this selection seemed most suitable for the summer solstice. For Pic 2 (swipe left) I finally got my hands on the Kandinsky Fox and Chave tie that I so raved about on Thursday. Isn’t it tasty though? I’m grateful for those who told me that before @foxandchave was bought by Jemima Haddock it had been founded by none other than Samantha Fox and Chas & Dave, the latter two fusing their name into Chave. I have strong reasons to believe that my leg was being pulled. Enjoy the longest day (or shortest, depending on which side of the equator you dress) …
A dangle of cravats today. Old hands may remember the purple Tootal one I displayed many weeks ago. I even went so far as to post a picture of myself wearing it. I chatted about the history of the Croat light cavalry soldiers after whom the neckcloth is named, the word croat morphing into cravat. In another post (about @newandlingwood) I mentioned Beau Brummel, that superb arbiter of Regency style, and posted a photo of his statue on Jermyn Street. Brummel was notorious for taking enormous care over the folding and tying of his cravats. Back then there were different styles of knot that took some mastering. They had splendid names: the Mathematical, Le Trône De L’Amour (the throne of love), the Waterfall – that sort of thing. The story goes that a friend called on Brummel one morning for a cup of chocolate and a gossip. He found him in his dressing-chamber facing the mirror and carefully tying a knot. The floor was a sea of dozens and dozens of discarded linen neckcloths. Brummel’s valet caught the visitor’s startled gaze and murmured “Our failures, sir…” I can’t remember if I read that story in the excellent Ian Kelly biography of Brummel or whether perhaps it popped up in the Stewart Granger biopic (Peter Ustinov played the Prince Regent). Whether it’s true or not it reveals the exquisite care the well-dressed Regency dandy would take in the folding and arrangement of his neckcloths. Lest you think of Brummel as some kind of foppish overdressed poltroon, dripping with enamelled snuffboxes, quizzing-glasses and peacock colours, it should be noted that what he brought to style was a severe, but beautiful simplicity. Black and white, the cleanest of lines. Not unlike the purity of the best Regency architecture. He made the mistake of insulting his erstwhile friend, the Regent and died in penurious exile. Can’t tell you much about these cravats, which are unlabelled except for the bright red example (Tie Rack). The dark red spotty one I wore for a GQ cover back in … what year was it? Swipe left for the embarrassing evidence… WTF?
A dangle of cravats today. Old hands may remember the purple Tootal one I displayed many weeks ago. I even went so far as to post a picture of myself wearing it. I chatted about the history of the Croat light cavalry soldiers after whom the neckcloth is named, the word croat morphing into cravat. In another post (about @newandlingwood) I mentioned Beau Brummel, that superb arbiter of Regency style, and posted a photo of his statue on Jermyn Street. Brummel was notorious for taking enormous care over the folding and tying of his cravats. Back then there were different styles of knot that took some mastering. They had splendid names: the Mathematical, Le Trône De L’Amour (the throne of love), the Waterfall – that sort of thing. The story goes that a friend called on Brummel one morning for a cup of chocolate and a gossip. He found him in his dressing-chamber facing the mirror and carefully tying a knot. The floor was a sea of dozens and dozens of discarded linen neckcloths. Brummel’s valet caught the visitor’s startled gaze and murmured “Our failures, sir…” I can’t remember if I read that story in the excellent Ian Kelly biography of Brummel or whether perhaps it popped up in the Stewart Granger biopic (Peter Ustinov played the Prince Regent). Whether it’s true or not it reveals the exquisite care the well-dressed Regency dandy would take in the folding and arrangement of his neckcloths. Lest you think of Brummel as some kind of foppish overdressed poltroon, dripping with enamelled snuffboxes, quizzing-glasses and peacock colours, it should be noted that what he brought to style was a severe, but beautiful simplicity. Black and white, the cleanest of lines. Not unlike the purity of the best Regency architecture. He made the mistake of insulting his erstwhile friend, the Regent and died in penurious exile. Can’t tell you much about these cravats, which are unlabelled except for the bright red example (Tie Rack). The dark red spotty one I wore for a GQ cover back in … what year was it? Swipe left for the embarrassing evidence… WTF?
Poor young badger. Found on the grassy verge during my morning walk. @matthewrice2016 (who knows much) tells me that badgers were once less common in Norfolk than they are now. One was found in Wroxham in 1911 and exhibited, such was the rarity. So while it’s sad that this cub didn’t make it, it’s good to know the species is thriving. Maybe I’ll go for a badger watch one evening… (Have submitted grid reference and other details to badgertrust.org.uk as many of you have suggested)
Many years ago, between A Levels and university I worked for a short while at the department store Bonds of Norwich. I started in Homewares but was moved up to Furniture on the top floor, for which I had to wear a dark suit with a splendid bumblebee tie – the shop’s symbol was a bee 🐝 Furniture’s Mr Ellis and I would patrol the floor, trying to get customers interested in our lines of Ercol furniture. I would say things like, ‘Madam certainly has an eye. She has instinctively picked out the finest dining table in Norwich.’ Or, ‘Surely the question Sir should be asking is, “Can Sir afford not to own so exquisite a sofa?’’’. Dear Old Bonds. It never felt like work. Discover more of the tales behind the ties in my new book #FrysTies – out now 👔
A Tie Rack edition today. Older viewers will remember how every High Street and railway station used to boast a Tie Rack store. Some were little more than booths or kiosks. Along with Sock Shop the chain exemplified a corner-turning moment in 80s and early 90s retail style and habits. Pic 1 (swipe left) shows a standard Tie Rack tie, with a standard Tie Rack label. Fine in its way – has a pleasing mauve sheen when you turn it in the light. Pic 2 displays a “Primavera For Tie Rack”. Was Primavera (the Italian for “spring”) an in-house design studio, I wonder? Did the extra name on the label indicate a “designer tie” with a corresponding hike in price? The word “designer” was beginning to be prepended to everything from sunglasses to boxer shorts back then. Pic 3 shows two “Charleston Tie Rack” specimens. Swipe left again for a “Chevalier” tie which looks to be greatly influenced by Versace (yes, doesn’t it need a damned good steam?) Pic 5 is “Angelo Bosani”. I wonder if Signor Bosani designed exclusively for Tie Rack? Certainly if you search for his work on eBay and elsewhere they all seems to be Tie Rack items. Can we discern a distinct difference according to label? Every one of them is 100% silk and all declare themselves to be made in Italy (except the Chevalier which doesn’t reveal its origin). I would say the two Charlestons and the Primavera have a certain something in common, an almost watercolour effect perhaps, whereas the Pic 1 Tie Rack, the Chevalier and the Angelo Bosani are all individual unto themselves. It’s of no great matter, doubtless some marketing figure decided that there should be this variation in labelling. Tie Rack has gone to retail heaven where it is kitting out the angels in good, but not great, fine but not fabulous, quality but not costly, neck wear. I wish them a blissful eternity, or as Horatio almost phrased it to the dying Hamlet, “Good night, sweet Tie Rack, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
A Tie Rack edition today. Older viewers will remember how every High Street and railway station used to boast a Tie Rack store. Some were little more than booths or kiosks. Along with Sock Shop the chain exemplified a corner-turning moment in 80s and early 90s retail style and habits. Pic 1 (swipe left) shows a standard Tie Rack tie, with a standard Tie Rack label. Fine in its way – has a pleasing mauve sheen when you turn it in the light. Pic 2 displays a “Primavera For Tie Rack”. Was Primavera (the Italian for “spring”) an in-house design studio, I wonder? Did the extra name on the label indicate a “designer tie” with a corresponding hike in price? The word “designer” was beginning to be prepended to everything from sunglasses to boxer shorts back then. Pic 3 shows two “Charleston Tie Rack” specimens. Swipe left again for a “Chevalier” tie which looks to be greatly influenced by Versace (yes, doesn’t it need a damned good steam?) Pic 5 is “Angelo Bosani”. I wonder if Signor Bosani designed exclusively for Tie Rack? Certainly if you search for his work on eBay and elsewhere they all seems to be Tie Rack items. Can we discern a distinct difference according to label? Every one of them is 100% silk and all declare themselves to be made in Italy (except the Chevalier which doesn’t reveal its origin). I would say the two Charlestons and the Primavera have a certain something in common, an almost watercolour effect perhaps, whereas the Pic 1 Tie Rack, the Chevalier and the Angelo Bosani are all individual unto themselves. It’s of no great matter, doubtless some marketing figure decided that there should be this variation in labelling. Tie Rack has gone to retail heaven where it is kitting out the angels in good, but not great, fine but not fabulous, quality but not costly, neck wear. I wish them a blissful eternity, or as Horatio almost phrased it to the dying Hamlet, “Good night, sweet Tie Rack, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
A Tie Rack edition today. Older viewers will remember how every High Street and railway station used to boast a Tie Rack store. Some were little more than booths or kiosks. Along with Sock Shop the chain exemplified a corner-turning moment in 80s and early 90s retail style and habits. Pic 1 (swipe left) shows a standard Tie Rack tie, with a standard Tie Rack label. Fine in its way – has a pleasing mauve sheen when you turn it in the light. Pic 2 displays a “Primavera For Tie Rack”. Was Primavera (the Italian for “spring”) an in-house design studio, I wonder? Did the extra name on the label indicate a “designer tie” with a corresponding hike in price? The word “designer” was beginning to be prepended to everything from sunglasses to boxer shorts back then. Pic 3 shows two “Charleston Tie Rack” specimens. Swipe left again for a “Chevalier” tie which looks to be greatly influenced by Versace (yes, doesn’t it need a damned good steam?) Pic 5 is “Angelo Bosani”. I wonder if Signor Bosani designed exclusively for Tie Rack? Certainly if you search for his work on eBay and elsewhere they all seems to be Tie Rack items. Can we discern a distinct difference according to label? Every one of them is 100% silk and all declare themselves to be made in Italy (except the Chevalier which doesn’t reveal its origin). I would say the two Charlestons and the Primavera have a certain something in common, an almost watercolour effect perhaps, whereas the Pic 1 Tie Rack, the Chevalier and the Angelo Bosani are all individual unto themselves. It’s of no great matter, doubtless some marketing figure decided that there should be this variation in labelling. Tie Rack has gone to retail heaven where it is kitting out the angels in good, but not great, fine but not fabulous, quality but not costly, neck wear. I wish them a blissful eternity, or as Horatio almost phrased it to the dying Hamlet, “Good night, sweet Tie Rack, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
A Tie Rack edition today. Older viewers will remember how every High Street and railway station used to boast a Tie Rack store. Some were little more than booths or kiosks. Along with Sock Shop the chain exemplified a corner-turning moment in 80s and early 90s retail style and habits. Pic 1 (swipe left) shows a standard Tie Rack tie, with a standard Tie Rack label. Fine in its way – has a pleasing mauve sheen when you turn it in the light. Pic 2 displays a “Primavera For Tie Rack”. Was Primavera (the Italian for “spring”) an in-house design studio, I wonder? Did the extra name on the label indicate a “designer tie” with a corresponding hike in price? The word “designer” was beginning to be prepended to everything from sunglasses to boxer shorts back then. Pic 3 shows two “Charleston Tie Rack” specimens. Swipe left again for a “Chevalier” tie which looks to be greatly influenced by Versace (yes, doesn’t it need a damned good steam?) Pic 5 is “Angelo Bosani”. I wonder if Signor Bosani designed exclusively for Tie Rack? Certainly if you search for his work on eBay and elsewhere they all seems to be Tie Rack items. Can we discern a distinct difference according to label? Every one of them is 100% silk and all declare themselves to be made in Italy (except the Chevalier which doesn’t reveal its origin). I would say the two Charlestons and the Primavera have a certain something in common, an almost watercolour effect perhaps, whereas the Pic 1 Tie Rack, the Chevalier and the Angelo Bosani are all individual unto themselves. It’s of no great matter, doubtless some marketing figure decided that there should be this variation in labelling. Tie Rack has gone to retail heaven where it is kitting out the angels in good, but not great, fine but not fabulous, quality but not costly, neck wear. I wish them a blissful eternity, or as Horatio almost phrased it to the dying Hamlet, “Good night, sweet Tie Rack, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
A Tie Rack edition today. Older viewers will remember how every High Street and railway station used to boast a Tie Rack store. Some were little more than booths or kiosks. Along with Sock Shop the chain exemplified a corner-turning moment in 80s and early 90s retail style and habits. Pic 1 (swipe left) shows a standard Tie Rack tie, with a standard Tie Rack label. Fine in its way – has a pleasing mauve sheen when you turn it in the light. Pic 2 displays a “Primavera For Tie Rack”. Was Primavera (the Italian for “spring”) an in-house design studio, I wonder? Did the extra name on the label indicate a “designer tie” with a corresponding hike in price? The word “designer” was beginning to be prepended to everything from sunglasses to boxer shorts back then. Pic 3 shows two “Charleston Tie Rack” specimens. Swipe left again for a “Chevalier” tie which looks to be greatly influenced by Versace (yes, doesn’t it need a damned good steam?) Pic 5 is “Angelo Bosani”. I wonder if Signor Bosani designed exclusively for Tie Rack? Certainly if you search for his work on eBay and elsewhere they all seems to be Tie Rack items. Can we discern a distinct difference according to label? Every one of them is 100% silk and all declare themselves to be made in Italy (except the Chevalier which doesn’t reveal its origin). I would say the two Charlestons and the Primavera have a certain something in common, an almost watercolour effect perhaps, whereas the Pic 1 Tie Rack, the Chevalier and the Angelo Bosani are all individual unto themselves. It’s of no great matter, doubtless some marketing figure decided that there should be this variation in labelling. Tie Rack has gone to retail heaven where it is kitting out the angels in good, but not great, fine but not fabulous, quality but not costly, neck wear. I wish them a blissful eternity, or as Horatio almost phrased it to the dying Hamlet, “Good night, sweet Tie Rack, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
As winter comes our thoughts turn to those in Ukraine uprooted and homeless – this poem moved me greatly. What would YOU take?
By my last year at Queen’s College, by which time I was the president – or ‘Senior Member’ – of the Queens’ College Cherubs dining club. One of the features of the initiation ceremony was to tell the club what we would do to glorify the name of the Cherubs in later life and I said, little thinking I could really make it happen that I would wear the tie on TV. But luckily I was very quickly as good as my word and wore it on University Challenge in 1980. Queens’ College colours are dark green and white, hence the Cherubs tie’s green stripe. Then there’s blue for the heavens and cherub pink. Inspired by my lockdown Instagram posts, my new book #FrysTies delves into my colourful collection of ties – and the even more colourful tales that accompany them 👔
Fancy winning a signed copy of my new book #FrysTies and six of my favourite ties from the new @charlestyrwhitt collection? To enter, simply enter your details at bit.ly/CTSTEPHEN before 23rd December 2021. You can also get 20% off at Charles Tyrwhitt with the code STEPHEN20👔
A little while ago, I had the honour to be appointed to the board of Norwich City Football Club @norwichcityfc. My poor attendance and general hopelessness in a committee meant that the time came to agree that perhaps a role as ambassador, friend and social media poster on behalf of the Canaries would suit me better than sitting around a table gazing with dumb incomprehension at spreadsheets and financial reports. A place in the Directors’ Box is a very obvious perk of board membership, and with it, for males, comes the requirement to present yourself in jacket and tie. Every tie tells a story. Discover them all in my new book #FrysTies: The Life and Times of a Tie Collection 👔
… and possibly the greatest sporting doc. Had the pleasure of watching it early – and whatever you think of cricket, believe me this is one thrilling, stunning watch. It’s about PEOPLE, and what a magnificent mixture it takes to make a team. You’ll fall in love with them all – and Mark Wood – @mawood33 – sitting on the washing machine will stay with you for ever. In a good way. Cannot recommend highly enough. Congrats to @yozzer01 and all who made this fabulous film
