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Last night, sitting outside in the dark to take a smoke, I turned the radio on and heard Duke Bluebeard's Castle swelling out into the night. It took me a minute to tag it, but once it clicked and the doors swung open on Bluebeard's kingdom, I could have prostrated myself on the ground, both to take cover and to listen in the proper, abject ( Read more... )

Just as the garden has gathered strength, it's time to pack it all away again. The plants don't know what's about to hit them, whether the weather or me with a shovel. I can't say I mind though, as I don't sit back and enjoy it. That isn't what it's for. It's not a relaxing place, not in the usual sense of the word. There's always turmoil. I want ( Read more... )

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I spend much more time thinking about the garden than gardening, dwelling especially on the possibilities rather than the practicalities ( Read more... )

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I feel a little bit wired and exhausted because of the phone tapping mess. The spectacle of the News International/Conservative party/corrupt police gangbang being exposed to public view has shaken me (and I fear, anyone who would listen for the past couple of days) with such WANTON GLEE that I feel a bit like i've had far too many sweets and ( Read more... )

M. bought Caitlin Moran's new book, How To Be A Woman. I picked it up and was addicted, though reading it in the staff canteen felt a bit shifty.

I don't want my celebrities to be more human. Art should be an arena to reinvent and supersede yourself. I don't want a load of normals trudging around, moaning about water rates and blackheads. I want ( Read more... )