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Curse Malet St Waterstones and their remainders sales of doom... I was on the way back from lunch and TCR Barclays and I thought I'd just nip in and take a look, and I've come out clutching Andrew Marr's My Trade: A Short History of British Journalism and something called A Brief History of the Human Race by somebody named Michael Cook, which looks jolly interesting and has a terribly complimentary bit of blurb by a friend of mine on the back, which encouraged me to give it a go.

I do like Andrew Marr. He's intelligent and witty and enjoys the arrant absurdity of it all in a rather Jon Snow-like manner. [livejournal.com profile] miss_wonderly was saying to me the other day that he's actually quite attractive, really, which had never struck me before, but I sort of see where she's coming from. He has a lot of charm.

As I walked along Malet St I passed three or four separate people who were gazing horrifiedly at RADA. I had a look, too, obviously, but I couldn't see any nightmarish horrors or lurking terrorists or really anything out of the ordinary at all. I do hope nothing bad happens, though: there's a jolly nice little cafe in there which I'd hate to see blown to smithereens, or collapsing under its own weight or something, even though there are far too many pictures of eerily good-looking and perfect past and present RADA students on the walls and one emerges feeling like a hideous, shrivelled and mis-shapen troll.

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childeric

April 2009

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