A hipster-groovester joint, down in a semi-derelict area overlooking the river. By day, the street is lined by shops that all sell car, motorcycle and bicycle accessories that I wouldn't trust with my life. And blow-up kayaks, which I would. By night, one enters a sleek, minimalist bar where a man w...
A friend kindly linked me to the BBC's "news" story of floral urinals at a garden centre in Lancashire. I was briefly amused, and thought, well, they've got their bit of publicity, and no mistake. I'm not adding to it.
But the trouble with being a magpie collector of unconsidered trifles, and...
It was going to be just an ordinary Sunday morning walk, but we were planning on about double the normal distance because our appointment for coffee was an hour away. The air was wonderfully fresh, a fine contrast to the night before’s heat which had mired me in lethargy. The streets were just abo...
Dubner does it right. So does The Economist.
I do take issue with the comment that Dubner had “encountered Muphry’s law”. This was not Muphry, this was a miscorrection, plain and simple.
All that’s left for me to rail against are the commenters; Sturgeon’s Law personified.
There are a couple of people I’ve got to know over the years for whom I have always reserved a special fantasy. We’d be somewhere comfortable and trust-inspiring, maybe having shared chemicals that further heighten a sense of camaraderie and truth-telling. I’d have given certain confidences. They’d have given certain confidences. And then I’d pop the question.
“Did you really believe all that guff, or was it just something that you took up because you could see the potential?”
