So blind date set up from the internet... Walk in to the pub to see the guy who looks quite like his photograph (not a bad thing), wearing a thinly knitted jumper with thin stripes - very tight over his pot belly. Not great, but forgiven by the fact he'd ordered some nice wine that was chilled and waiting for me. We were chatting away for hours and getting quite merry, all going well - even going on for dinner. Then the bubble burst. He asked what I'd done for my last holiday and who I'd gone with. I said I'd gone to climb Scafell Pike and went on my own because my friend who works in film suddenly got a job. His response: You SO need a boyfriend. That was it. I failed to see why a boyfriend would make climbing a mountain in gale force wind any better, finished my drink and said I'd call him. Obviously didn't.
Unfinished sequences. Currently include those about Andrew Duncan's, Emily Critchley's, & Simon Jarvis's things. Caveat on quotations. (1) The Blogger architecture collapses tabs & multiple spaces; it's possible to get around this – (& if you’re nice to him John Sparrow might tell you how?) – but it’s friction, I hardly ever bother with it. Quotations which have lost indents or other formatting are labelled “not sic” unless I’ve forgotten. (2) Stuff filed under 1999 is kinda my personal commonplace book for a POLITIX course, a.k.a. BUCKBUCK Courier Point (Hill House): 799999, so. (3) I often don’t proof what I type / paste in. Gotta dash for snax. Avant garde British poetry.Peter Philpott holds the answers.