Went to London, Took the Dog by Nina Stibbe review – more larks in London

Twenty years after leaving the capital, the diarist returns for a funny-sad adult gap year

The first time Nina Stibbe lived in London she was 20 years old, fresh from rural Leicestershire and pitched into working as a nanny in one of the starriest literary streets in Primrose Hill. Her boss, Mary-Kay Wilmers, was then deputy editor of the London Review of Books, and neighbours popping in for a metaphorical cup of sugar included Jonathan Miller, Alan Bennett, Claire Tomalin, Michael Frayn and Deborah Moggach. Stibbe watched it all wide-eyed and reported back to her sister in a series of letters that formed the basis for her 2013 bestseller, Love, Nina.

Now Stibbe is back, aged 60, after decades of family living in deepest Cornwall. This time she is lodging with Moggach, who has since moved around the corner to Camden. She also has her beloved cockapoo Peggy with her, as well as a literary reputation of her own. Love, Nina was followed by four bestselling novels, all defined by Stibbe’s wry voice as an absurdist chronicler of a world both baffling and extraordinary.

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