All the things I do instead of writing…
Every year since I graduated twenty-one years ago, the phone rings with an Oxford prefix. Nearly all of us who matriculated in 1997 get this call, and each year we want it to be over before it has begun. I seem to be almost alone amongst my contemporaries in always picking up, despite knowing how... Continue Reading →
With age, I am becoming a compulsive oversharer. Maybe time seems so precious and so short that I don't want to waste any of it talking about the weather. But then, I'm also fascinated by people who care about handbags, and want to get inside their heads. I want to ask them where their ring... Continue Reading →
Have you ever eaten a Mars bar when really, really hungry? I once got to the shaking with cold sweat stage of hungry, because I had forgotten my wallet at work. I eventually asked a colleague for £1 for the vending machine, because I didn't want to admit that I was so ditsy I didn't... Continue Reading →
January 2020 seems a long time ago. Back then, I was frustrated by the new-at-the-time HSBC ad. I hate being asked where I am from, and I hate thinking about it. Of course we all ask each other various questions designed to understand the parameters of the person we are talking to, for no particularly... Continue Reading →
The recent purchase of Instagram by Facebook amused me, not least the idea that a company valued at 100 times' earnings feels it can spend $1 billion on another company that makes no money at all. Basic economics obviously don't trouble people's consciousness any more now than they did in the South Sea bubble. The... Continue Reading →
The resting writer 