Last night at about 1 am Mike Coulter and I found this poor wee baby Seagull in Leith with a broken wing. Mike thought it was an injured ostrich and called the cops not believing it was a seagull. However as we debatred this a passing ambulanceman stopped and confirmed it was indeed a seagull and shot it.
I was extraordinarily priveleged to host an event for STV last night in which we had Mark Waites, founder and creative director of Mother London, speak.
By 3 am, as the grappa had flowed ceaselessly at Rufus Wedderburn’s gaff, I was quite tired.
But Mark was wonderful and if you follow this link you’ll find a fantastic photographic capture of the event thanks to my dear friend, Mike Coulter. He likes a grappa or two, too.
Which is quite impressive as it’s not published until 3rd August.
I love, and I mean loooove Magnus Mills.
It was not a particularly heavy reading holiday this year and a bit unsatisfying to be honest.
I’m mid way through D Day by Antony Beevor which is his usual magisterial trip through time in inimitable detail. But it’s not a holiday book. I’ll review it later when I finally finish it. (Two months so far.)
I read most of True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey which is really well written but, you know what, it just kind of goes on and on. Not recommended (even if it did win the Booker).
The best read by far was Ragtime by E L Doctorow which is short but very, very sweet. In lots of ways it reminded me of The Great Gatsby. I don’t know why because it’s set in the first two decades of the 20th century not the fourth. I guess it was its obsession with class. In this case contextualised against racial angst rather than money. Lovely book. Highly recommended and Ria is doing the stage show of it during the festival which will be a must see.
Lastly I started but didn’t complete The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters, another class-driven story that is extraordinarily reminiscent of “the Others”. I’m not finished it but am not particularly taken by its rather mannered style.
So, there you go.