It started in the boarding area at Waterloo. I bought The Guardian and Mojo. The Guardian, well... because it's the Guardian. Mojo, because apart from being the best music magazine i ever came across, it has Dylan on the cover with a fine example of the countless wanky quotes he managed to deliver over the years: "I don't break the rules... Because there are no rules." Oh boy.
Then the Eurostar. Last week's Economist was sitting there, titling: "Why ethical shopping harms the world." Bastards. Questioning once again my entire value system. I haven't read their piece yet and I know exactly what's going to happen. First, I'm going to stop buying my favorite chocolate à l'orange, which is fairtrade, organic and absolutely delicious. I got so much shit for it, was called a bo-bo (bourgeois-bohême, something like a posh tree-hugger). Didn't stop the name-callers from devouring it, but eh. After this I'll get into a series of arguments with my French, left-wing, anti-globalization friends, who'll tell me I sold out, I have no soul, I've been brainwashed, so on and so forth. Ah hell. I'm tired already.
Anyway, my handbag was wide open and in went the magazine. So did this week's Economist, with something on Britain's failing transport system, so I can nod emphatically, get all indignant and feel like I still belong.
Though I never really read it when I was in London, I also grabbed today's Times, just for kicks. And as a preventive measure. You never know when nostalgia will hit and you'll start craving some witty British writing at night and in bed, when your eyes become too dry to bear another internet minute.
And then, just to compensate, French magazine Jalouse, a special edition on Asian coolness: fashion, design, cinema and other artsy fartsy stuff from Shanghai, Bangkok and Tokyo. Probably very insubstantial, but I still took it, for their effort. And mine.
No idea when I'll be back in London. So I guess anything will do.
No comments:
Post a Comment