Quickly, at random

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Forgive unseemly haste; today I lost time. The sun shone on the snow; it grew colder; Sarah and I competed on the telephone to see which of us could be the most feminist (high scoring draw, I should say).

For some reason, I kept thinking of the number of things which seem to be enthralling quite a lot people, but in which I have absolutely no interest. Here is my list:

Whatever it was that Sir Nicholas Winterton said about the trains.

Whether Simon Cowell is engaged or not. In fact, anything at all about Simon Cowell. He may be the least interesting man in Britain, apart from Geoff Hoon.

Jordan. The person, not the country.

Lindsay Lohan.

Whether Tiger Woods' wife will take him back. Tiger Woods is nearly as dull as Simon Cowell.

The winter Olympics.

Lady Ga Ga, and whether she is secretly a man. (I know it is sacrilege to say so, but I fail to see the fascination on any front.)

Steve Jobs. If I had magic powers, I would make Simon Cowell, Steve Jobs and Tiger Woods all go and live on an island somewhere in the south Atlantic where they can bore each other into extinction. And Mr Jobs can take his idiot ipad with him. (Did not realise I was quite so grumpy about that. But the hype, the hype.)

The John Terry scandal. Footballer shags someone not his wife. Hold the phone. Although I do feel a bit sorry for Mrs Terry.

Anna Wintour. Tried to watch The September Issue, but she is so dull. That sad pinched little face makes me want to cry. Someone needs to take her out, get her plastered, and make her sing I will survive on the karaoke machine.

The Brits. In fact all awards shows. I can't believe that back in the day my friend Hugh and I used to stay up all night to watch the Oscars.

Anything Liam Gallagher might choose to say next.

There. All better now. I apologise for a distressing excess of italics.

In the meantime, your picture of the day:

 

Isn't it heaven? It is by a man called Edward Dimsdale and it is called Road, East of England, and I found it on a blog called Suicide Blonde. I thought it was taken in the forties; it had that evocative feeling of a world that has gone. Then I looked up Edward Dimsdale and it turns out he is only two years older than I, and he took this in 1997. I think he has a stunning eye. So that's my discovery of the day.