Thank you, Caius, for your final parting gift of book tokens Wandering about Waterstone’s Piccadilly was just such enormous fun, and I now have a great pile of books to add to my already great piles of books to read. Yay! Books are awesome. [Pre-emptive reply to sarky comments about the lack of fiction: (a) 40% of that is fiction! (b) there are many classic books downstairs in the office that I plan on reading, too.]
So the trip to Waterstone’s was merely one part of a great day out with Katie which also included Forbidden Planet, dodgem cars and an assortment box of Krispy Kremes. Awesome in and of itself, obviously, but you haven’t seen who we bumped into yet…
I’m sure it could get annoying to be accosted by fans every time you pop down with some mates into the geek joy that is Forbidden Planet, but nonetheless he was very gracious about it, so hurrah. (Who shall be next celebrity spot on this blog, I wonder? My money’s on Mary Wollstonecraft.)
Working backwards in time: yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting up for lunch with Maryam, who is busy sitting actual interviews for actual jobs in offices and suchlike. Get her. We then ended up with a bunch of medical students at King’s bar, who I naturally got talking to me all about their school lives, because these days I can openly do so with an apologetic smile and a “it’s part of my job to ask this, you see…”. And then last weekend was spent visiting the ever-wonderful Andy Kings in Bradford – which I’m reliably informed is up North a bit – and just generally chilling out, whether it be to Goodness Gracious Me in the media museum (forever funny), X-Factor joys (which doesn’t really deserve italics) or The Social Network. I can echo Abbi and Paul’s earlier recommendations for this film, if for nothing else than for Aaron Sorkin’s razor sharp dialogue which is instantly familiar to anyone who’s ever seen any West Wing. Having said that, I can’t help but feel a bit sorry for poor old Mark Zuckerberg, even though (all things considered) the film finishes on a rather sympathetic note. I’m sure most of us could have our youth portrayed unflatteringly, if only we did anything noteworthy enough to get noticed.
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This is what happens if you give me £100 to spend on books