Friends, editors, translators lend me your ears.
Today sees the launch a new writing adventure – the brainchild of myself and fellow dreamer, entrepreneur and translator Luke Spear. If the last six months have taught me one fundamental thing it is that in business, as in life, it is useful to have lots of partners.
It has not been a good few weeks for the English language. First Countdown was plunged into crisis and then a lecturer at New Bucks University suggested that common spelling mistakes be allowed as variants. This really annoys me.
Ahead of my return to Paris, I thought I would publish extracts from the diary that I kept during my first two weeks… 23.20 – Tuesday 10th June.
As I mentioned in a post not so long ago, I wasn’t quite sure how I would feel to come back to Paris. When I left, after three years of living there, it seemed to happen so quickly that I felt that I had not fully tied up many emotional ends.
With perfect timing, I am leaving the UK just as the latest series of Big Brother gets underway. I cannot abide this trite excuse for programming, and I am delighted that I will be able to avoid the vacuous media coverage that accompanies this annual event.
I have, however, coined a phrase for the way in which the British tabloids describe proceedings...
Clearing some memory on my camera-phone I came across a selection of photos taken at various locations in the North East of England between January and May 2008...
Newcastle United - Stoke City, Jan 2008. The night the messiah returned.
It is now almost exactly six years since I left Paris, after three memorable, often crazy years - where I, along with a combination of like-minded individuals, deluded romantics and idiot-geniuses contrived to have as much fun as possible on £3000 of British Student Loan.
So much has changed since then, but I still feel a pervading sense of nostalgia for a place I once called home.
In the next couple of weeks I will start writing my first book. A biography of Ayrton Senna. Now, I have collected a lot of archive footage and material over the years, but am conscious of maybe having overlooked some great events/memories.
You would think that by your mid-20s, you would have had enough life experience to both manage and/or end relationships without resorting to euphemism or cliché.
The top five euphemisms that have been used on me are…
“Its not you its me” (well, obviously)
“I need to discover myself” (That wont take long. You are quite dull.
The British Government are under pressure over the 10p tax rate and are currently backtracking as it makes the poorest in society poorer...
If only they had heeded my warnings.
Doing some site maintenance I read back over some articles that I wrote last summer. Funnily enough this extract from my 'Open Letter to Gordon Brown' caught my eye...
I was listening to the Kinks and editing an article when an news story made me smile.
On Merseyside a Grandmother was faced with plans to demolish her home to make way for, amongst other things, a new Tesco. In a wonderful retaliation this lady applied for planning permission to demolish the mansion belonging to Tesco chief executive Sir Terry Leahy. Tesco is a bugbear of mine.