Having almost given up on TV drama in despair at the apparently unstoppable tide of melodramatic banality (there's a tautology for you) and resigned myself to a life of reruns of Scrubs and QI, I am currently utterly obsessed with one particular show, and an American cop show to boot.
The boy's brother gave him the first season box set, which we cracked open on Sunday and we're scheduled for Episode 5 tonight. Yes, that's an average of two episodes a night, such is the power of The Wire. Totally compelling scriptwriting, powerful performances and narrative pacing to rival Dickens, I am like a junkie searching out the next fix - an apt metaphor given the subject matter.
About to embark upon the Penguin Great Loves boxset that the boy's mum gave me at Christmas.
Penguin's marketing claims it to be 'the most seductive, inspiring and surprising writing on love in all its infinite variety…', and it certainly is an electic and broad-reaching collection with some stunning, inventive cover design.
And the iconic logo has been rejigged into two penguins leaning in for a kiss. What a lovely detail!
At weekends, I relish sinking into the SaturdayGrauniad
Order of attack:
Space - to look at beautiful stuff I cannot afford
Ottolenghi's veggie recipes - for obvious reasons ...
Writers' Rooms - to admire the inevitable creative chaos
Lucy Mangan's Book Corner - I think she might actually be me
Family - high-brow voyeurism
Editorials - strident and entertaining
Letters page - ditto, with added bonus of 101 uses for a 35mm film canister
And I tend to leave the Review as a solace for my weekday commute.
Of course, the paper merely reflects back at me my view of the world - I suppose I should really read the Mail or the Express to "broaden" my horizons and remind myself that the world is not full of sandal-wearing, muesli-eating middle class liberal intellectuals but why on earth would I want to do that?
