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History PhD student, bookseller, artist and problematic crank.
I'm not very active here now* but am briefly logging on to note that to-day is the third anniversary of my successful transplant.
*Partly because I'm busy at the moment, but also because this place, in my view anyway, has become tedious and unhealthy.
He understood that great artists need (usually!) a hinterland, and his was immense. Listen to his Beethoven (no, seriously, listen to his Beethoven), but also read The Lady from Arezzo, his delightful and beautifully written book about Dada and kitsch.
Trying to explain why the now sadly late Alfred Brendel was one of the very greatest of pianists is a lot harder than simply linking to a recording, but he was good with words as well so it is owed. He had a style that was precise and intelligent, but so very human. There was life and humour there.
Someone has to say it. And I don't live in Northern Ireland. I will note that no one has firebombed Jeffrey Donaldson's house. That's all.
(Yes, Mr Donaldson has not been convicted of anything, but neither have the two young men accused in this case. In neither case do I make comment on guilt).
I would combine this with tighter ballot access restrictions. They're far too lax at the moment.
I hate* to be that guy, but it's often the way over housing that you have to quietly note that a lot of this crowd have various vested interests in the issue.
*A lie and I was never any good at lying.
I mean, I'm biased. I have a huge affection for Edgbaston: Tolkien, Joseph Southall, my successful transplant, etc.
And is easy to get to! The trouble with having anything in Inner West London is that... uh...
(fine with having a tournament there - that's not the issue - but I don't like how it has been done)
Yeah. The internet is a cesspit, but one can use manure to grow roses, right? That's the only way to look at things.
(Edgbaston also has better courts...)