God, it’s morning

Sorry for the late start, folks. The cats danced on my head all night and I dreamed, when I dreamed, of itchy elbows and eyebrows, and there just isn’t enough coffee in the world to make anything interesting to me today. I’ve been looking at the big papers and they’re all full of nothing.

How’s this for starters — there’s an article in the Independent about the Booker Prize. The writer, Boyd Tonkin, says the recent past winners were “high-gloss, high-concept one-trick ponies.”


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