Such an institution, and such a clientele, will inevitably attract media attention. It is no surprise, therefore, that the school frequently has to endure the ignominy of having its dirty laundry made public. When six students were thrown out for drugs offences last year, the story made the national headlines; when two more were expelled last summer for “having sex in a sandpit,” it caused even more of a furore.

The novelist Amanda Craig – who herself went to Bedales forty years ago – was among the most vociferous critics of her former school. Writing in the Daily Mail, she recounted how she was sexually assaulted by a gang of boys while walking back from an evening assembly. From then on, she writes, she was “relentlessly bullied,” and became “tense, white-faced and desperately lonely.”

Last week, as Bedales’ writer-in-residence, I had the opportunity to assess it from the inside. I spent five days leading workshops, speaking to the literary societies, meeting children of all ages for one-to-one tutorials, lecturing and advising staff. And although I concede that my time there was limited, what I saw had little in common with the Bedales of Amanda Craig four decades ago. Continue reading on the Independent website

A couple of weeks back, I appeared at a festival at Ayot. (That sounds a bit like I’m a wizard. But I kind of like it.) I read from my new novel, The English German Girl, which is about the Kindertrasport. I’ve done quite a lot of readings recently while promoting the book. But this one was different. Appearing on the stage alongside me was Walter Kammerling, a Kindertransport survivor whom I interviewed six years ago, when I was just starting to write the novel. Walter was whisked out of Vienna at the age of fifteen, which is the same age as my protagonist, Rosa, leaves Berlin.

Needless to say, it was an honour to share a platform with such a courageous and inspiring man. At one point, the host, Fiona MacIntosh, asked me to read a few paragraphs from the novel. Then she turned to Walter. “Did that extract ring true?” she asked. “Has Jake accurately captured the mood of the period?” There was a long pause. This was, as they say, the 64,000 dollar question. (What does that phrase actually mean? 64,000 dollar question? Should I google it? Can’t be bothered.) Anyway, my heart was in my mouth. Walter took a breath. “Yes,” he said, decisively. “Jake captured the atmosphere very well.” Relief doesn’t even begin to describe what I felt at that moment.

At the same time, what I felt was deeper than relief. Walter had brought home to me more vividly than ever before the greater meaning of my novel, which is to keep the memory of the Kindertransport alive in the minds of future generations. Or, on an even more fundamental level, to allow people to empathise with the persecuted and oppressed. Walter had travelled halfway across the country to appear at Ayot, determined – even at the age of 91 – to spread his message of pluralism and tolerance. My book, in some very small (and perhaps incomparable) way, is contributing to this effort.

After the event, there was a signing. A few people asked Walter to sign the novel as well. Before long this became the form; I would sign it, then he would sign below. I was humbled. This seemed to be exactly the right way to end such a very unique event.

Four Thought combines big ideas and evocative storytelling in a series of personal viewpoints – speakers take to the stage ready to air their latest thinking on the trends, ideas, interests and passions that affect our culture and society.

Recorded live at the RSA in London, these talks are unscripted, thought-provoking and entertaining, with a personal dimension.

More information

6:30pm, P&G Wells, 11 College Street, Winchester  |  01962 852016  |  info@bookwells.co.uk

On April 7, Jake Wallis Simons will be speaking at the Royal Society of Arts as part of Radio 4′s exciting new series FOUR THOUGHT. He will be talking, unscripted, for 15 minutes on the subject of “what you didn’t know about Tibetan Buddhism”. Other speakers include Jonathan Sumption QC, the Independent columnist Christina Patterson, and the political scientist Professor Phil Cowley.

There will be a live studio audience. Find out more

My latest novel, The English German Girl, which comes out in April, took around five years to complete. For at least three of those years, in the back of my head I had a piece of music by the French composer Maurice Ravel. Written in 1914, it is part of a two-song set called “Deux mélodies hébraïques;” the first of these, “Kaddish,” seems to capture perfectly the mood of the novel. Here is is played beautifully and movingly by the wonderful British cellist Steven Isserlis. –JWS

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8KIUXxz7Ys

I was so chuffed and honoured to receive a personal email from David Cameron the other day that I decided to post it here. See below. –JWS

The PM

OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER

TREASURY AND MINISTER FOR CIVIL SERVICE,

LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM.

Our ref: ATM/13470/IDR Your ref:…

IMMEDIATE PAYMENT NOTIFICATION.

I am The Rt Hon David Cameron, Prime Minister British Government. This letter is to officially inform you that (ATM Card Number 4900101775551222) has been accredited with your favor. Your Personal Identification Number is 413. The VISA Card Value is Ј3,000,000.00(Three Million Great British Pounds Sterling).

This office will send to you a Visa/ATM CARD that you will use to withdraw your funds in any ATM MACHINE CENTER or Visa card outlet in the world with a maximum of  Ј10,000 Pounds daily. Further more,You will be required to re-confirm the following information to enable;The Rt Hon William Hague Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs. begin in processing of your VISA CARD.

(1)Full names: (2)Address:   (3)Country:    (4)Nationality:   (5)Phone #:   (6)Age:   (7)Occupation:

Forward Reply To: fco-gov@info.al

TAKE NOTICE: That you are warned to stop further communications with any other person(s) or office(s) different from the staff of the State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs to avoid hitches in receiving your payment.

Regards,

The Rt Hon David Cameron MP

Prime Minister.

iPhone, my iPhone:

Back when I upgraded, you seemed like such a blessing

So I’m completely mortified and guilty about confessing

It’s all hype, I can’t type on a tiny pain of glass;

Sending texts and emails is really quite an arse.

Every day you’re causing me embarrassment with typos.

“Thanks for the birthday ‘pressure’?” You make me look a psycho.

You act all slick and cool but actually you’re phoney.

My friend named her son Toby — you renamed him “Tony.”

What’s the point of a phone that drops important calls?

How can you hold your head up when your camera’s a load of balls?

It freezes really badly when I try to take a pic,

I’ve lost so many memories, I’m feeling like a prick.

I’m sick

And tired

My temper has expired

I finally got a piece of kit that everyone admired

But it’s shit

That’s it

I should flush it down the loo.

Followed by my iMac and my iPad too.

But then again, my Blackberry isn’t that much better.

Maybe I should pack it in, write a fucking letter.

Upgrade — or Unbearable Naivete

Blackberry, O my Blackberry,
No longer shall I suckle at thy tarry teat,
No longer shall I trackpad.
With my iPad,
And my iPhone 4,
I will touchscreen.
Obscene?
Perhaps (with all the apps).
But now I’m Schnaps, no longer Snapple;
I’m not a berry,
I’m an apple.

"We did it our way"

We were sitting on the sofa, surrounded by glossy wedding bumph, when my fiancée Isobel had a moment of clarity. “These people are thieves,” she said, tossing aside a brochure for Blenheim Palace advertising two wedding packages – a no-frills option for £16,400 and a standard for £23,900. “We don’t have that kind of money. Let’s set ourselves the challenge of having a lovely wedding for less than £5,000.”

I smiled encouragingly. It was late at night. Within a few hours, I thought, she would recognise this idea for the tomfoolery it was.

The next morning, however, Isobel was fired up. “I’ll do the catering myself,” she said over breakfast. “It will be a really characterful wedding.” I pulled out the Blenheim Palace brochure from my pocket. “But what about the magnificent setting?” I said, mournfully. “What about the after-dinner Belgian pralines?” She regarded me steadily. “We can do it,” she said.

According to the consumer watchdog Which?, the average cost of a wedding in the UK is around £17,000. Moreover, a recent report suggests that couples are being exploited when they tie the knot. “Hotels, florists and hairdressers are being really unfair,” says Lisa Barber, deputy editor of Which? Magazine. “They charge 25 per cent more for weddings than they do for other similar events.”

So how can you avoid being the victims of wedding mark-up? For us, it began with the venue. Isobel was determined to find an affordable alternative to Blenheim. I was sceptical. “We just need to think outside the box,” she said, “and find a venue which isn’t normally used for weddings.”

We began a tour of church halls in Winchester. These tended to be dusty, dilapidated affairs, more suited to WI coffee mornings than wedding breakfasts. I held on to the Blenheim brochure and searched the internet for 0 per cent interest credit cards.

Then we found it. Tucked away in the heart of Winchester was a desanctified, 17^th-century Roman Catholic chapel called Milner’s Hall. It had vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows and a large balcony; a bit rough around the edges, perhaps, but it had character. It could seat up to 130 – the exact size of our wedding party – and it only cost £20 per hour. We booked it. Total cost: £200.There was no going back.

Next we had to decide where to hold the wedding itself (a non-religious ceremony). This was harder, as the venue would need to have a wedding licence. The fee at extravagant venues such as Blenheim was between £2,000 and £5,000; our local register office, on the other hand, was affordable but overwhelmingly bland, and smelled of eucalyptus floor cleaner. For a while, we were stumped.

Then inspiration struck. In the UK, non-mainstream religious ceremonies are not legally binding. For this reason, Jewish people (for example) back up their big, traditional ceremony with a low-key affair at a registry office, usually either before or immediately after the main wedding, which is regarded as nothing more than a formality. What was stopping us doing the same?

We decided to hold the wedding ceremony in my grandparents’ beautiful garden, just five minutes’ walk from Milner Hall. My uncle agreed to conduct the ceremony, which we wrote ourselves. The setting would be idyllic (and the flowers were there already). We arranged a basic ceremony at the register office the following day. Total cost: only £43.50 for the register office.

It was time to send out invitations. After some discussion, we designed them ourselves and emailed them. Not only did this save money, but it was kind to the environment. We asked a relative to take photographs, which she agreed to do for free.

In the following weeks we purchased our outfits. Isobel bought her dress on eBay. It took her a few attempts to get it right, but as dud dresses could be sold on, it didn’t matter. Eventually she got hold of a beautiful ex-display wedding dress for £90.

For my part, I found that nobody will notice if you wear a cheap suit, provided it fits properly. Most suits are designed for men with paunches and look terrible on those who have not yet had the opportunity to develop one, so I went for “slim fit,” at Moss Bros and it was fine. My suit, waistcoat and tie came to a total of £180 (more than the bride’s apparel).

I was beginning to get into the spirit. Through a friend, I was introduced to a jeweller who would deal directly with customers at wholesale prices. He sold me two 18 carat rings for £700, a saving of around £400. Cheaper rings were available, but Isobel and I felt that it was best not to compromise on something that would last a lifetime.

Then came the difficult part: the dinner. We roped in a Hungarian au pair and three of her friends to serve, persuaded them to wear black and white, and paid them £600 for the day. We bought the wine and soft drinks from a local wholesaler, opting for the cheaper prosecco rather than champagne, as few people can easily tell the difference. This came to £750 with free glass hire. Our local brewery sold us a keg of Hampshire ale for £105, which we intended to tap and set up during the dance. The cutlery was hired for £300 from a local, family-run business called Crocks, and we managed to procure sufficient white tablecloths through Freecycle, for which we were charged nothing. Finally, at a car boot sale we bought 130 dinner plates, of all shapes, sizes and vintages, which had the twin advantages of providing colour and creating conversation pieces (especially the Charles and Diana wedding plate). The plates cost us just £10.

Our food strategy was to keep it simple and buy locally direct from the producers, which was also good for the environment. The only exception was the salmon and potato salad, which we bought through Waitrose Catering for £700. So we sourced strawberries and salad from a farm in Surrey (they also threw in some fresh flowers), local cheeses from a dairy, and bread and a mountain of delicious cupcakes from a bakery. This all came to around £450. For £100 we hired a refrigerated van in which all the food could be stored overnight.

Finally, we found a delightful man called Matt Benecci, who owns an ice cream tricycle. For £300 he came to Winchester and set up outside the hall, so that after the dinner our guests could leave the hall and eat delicious ice cream while the Hungarian staff set the hall up for the barn dance.

Yes, the barn dance. Not long after we sent out the wedding invitations, I was drinking at the best-known pub in Winchester, the Black Boy, where a folk band called Made Behind the Bar were playing. They were great, and the idea of a barn dance suggested itself. Barn dances are far simpler to set up than discos, and have the advantage of being a great leveller, since everyone looks equally silly. I hired the band, who played during the ceremony as well, at a cost of £650.

The total wedding cost was £5173.50. OK, so we overshot by a small amount. To our relief, the day went smoothly, and all our fears of glitches and omissions in planning proved unfounded.

There is an old Jewish joke about a man who wanted a completely unique wedding, so decided to have one in the desert. On the wedding day he sees a dustcloud in the distance and asks a local man what it is. “That?” replies the man. “That’s the Cohen’s wedding.”

It’s safe to say that not only was our wedding affordable and eco-friendly, it was also one of a kind. I – and the guests – will remember it forever.