Wednesday, March 26, 2008
South Park
Excellent - it's South Park on demand. Get yours here.
Fountains Abbey
Well worth a visit.
Yorke Arms
This wasn't bad on Sunday, despite it taking them absolutely ages to get the coffee ready!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Eddie Thompson
'When I met my wife I was wearing Italian suits, brothel-creeper shoes and had big sideburns. I must have looked like a bloody crook to all those I was doing audits for. So Cath turned me into a professional; she slowly got the sideburns down, the gloves on and the umbrella out. She shaped me.'Sounds more like she turned you into a whole lot of no fun, Eddie.
Forget free CDs
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Keeping fit in London
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Delia
Great poets of the 20th century
Monday, March 10, 2008
Russia expo
And another one:
Friday, March 07, 2008
La Petite Anglaise
"La petite anglaise" is absolutely everywhere at the moment. It's stomach-churning to see a PR machine being this successful for something so inconsequential. She married a French bloke, shagged an English one, got sacked. Who cares? Especially when the story is so badly written:
It's like a random printout from the central computer lying deep in the bowels of Mills & Boon, churning out slush, hour after hour. Vomit, vomit, vomit.Late in the evening I found myself staring at his hands, which were resting on the table in front of me, long-fingered, elegant yet strong-looking. Maybe some hint of the longing I felt showed in my face, because James said in a strangled voice: “I’ve been trying to keep myself in check all evening, out of decency, out of respect for the fact that you’re in a relationship, but I’m sorry, I can’t not say this, I just can’t.”
“Go on,” I half whispered, wishing I had drunk less.
“Ever since I started reading petite anglaise, I’ve felt drawn to the girl who wrote it. I was seeing a French girl for a while, but my heart just wasn’t in it. I couldn’t get you out of my head. Even though you were in Paris, and with someone. And even though I had no idea what you actually looked like . . . And then you walked into the bar tonight, and – well, this is going to sound corny, but to hell with that – any doubts I had just vanished when I saw you.”
He had started falling for petite anglaise before we had even met? This was either utter madness, or the most romantic thing I’d ever heard.
I was exhilarated. Terrified. Thrilled that he wanted me as much as I now knew I wanted him. Panic-stricken at the thought of what could lie on the horizon.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
La Quincaillerie
This is where we went to eat on Tuesday night. Recommended, if you are ever in Brussels.
Alain Robbe-Grillet
Hm. An obituary written by a dead man. Very strange. How many of these did Douglas Johnson file before he passed away, I wonder?
Business cards

