As I seem to spend a lot of time in the car and my books on tape are all finished, I was listening to the World Service again the other day (I know, it’s like a terrible affliction). There was a programme on blogging. I particularly liked this comment:
“The artist Andy Warhol believed that everyone would be famous for fifteen minutes, but now – say the wits – with a weblog everyone can be famous to at least fifteen people.”
And I finished “The Dante Club”. And it is brutally disappointing. In my heart of hearts, I know it is going to be made a huge Hollywood blockbuster, just to spite me. Like bloody “Cold Mountain”.
And finally, from this week’s London Review of Books:
“Summer, 1974. Everybody was kung fu fighting. Not me, I was revising the sociology of Paulo Freire. Who’s laughing now, sixth-formers of Sherbourne Fields School, Coundon? Mortgage-free M and perennial Friends Reunited outcast. Box no. 06/06”