I'm talking at a thing on March 27th. You can read details and buy tickets.
I've never been described as a journalist before. It's exciting if untrue.
When asked to do this sort of thing I always have to doublecheck that they're not really after one of the other, better, Russell Davies'. That description made me want to check again, but, actually, it's not how you'd describe any of them, so it must be me.
Anyway, buy a ticket and you'll get me.
It says that I'll be "telling a story about a song that's changed my life."
See if you can guess which one it'll be. Will things ever be the same again?
I am continuing to enjoy le Carré's The Pigeon Tunnel. These two bits especially:
The first is about a time where he was escorting some German members of Parliament to a London brothel:
"The door was opened by a large, middle-aged lady in a white kaftan and bandana headscarf.
‘Yes?’ she demanded indignantly, as if we had roused her from her slumbers.
I was on the point of apologizing for disturbing her, but the parliamentary member for a constituency west of Frankfurt was ahead of me.
‘We are German and we wish to learn French!’ he bellowed in his best English to roars of approval from his comrades.
Our hostess was undaunted.
‘It’s five pounds each for a short moment, and one at a time,’ she said, with the severity of a prep-school matron.
About to leave my delegates to their specialized interests, I spotted two uniformed constables, one old, one young, approaching us down the pavement. I was wearing a black jacket and striped trousers.
‘I’m from the Foreign Office. These gentlemen are my official guests.’
‘Less noise,’ said the older one, and they walked sedately on."
The second is about a time he had to take a visiting dignitary to Downing Street.
"We arrived at 10 Downing Street late, never a good start. The government car that had been sent for us failed to show up, and I had been reduced to stepping into the middle of the road in my black coat and striped trousers, forcing a passing driver to stop and asking him to take us to 10 Downing Street as fast as possible. Understandably, the driver, a young man in a suit with a woman passenger at his side, thought I was mad. But his passenger rebuked him. ‘Go on, do it. Or they’ll be late,’ she said, and the young man bit his lip and did as he was told."
All that authority and privilege. Vested in some trousers.
In that random way streaming services do it Spotify has started encouraging me to listen to audio books. I enjoyed lots of Naomi Klein's Doppleganger walking beside the Thames on my way to and from Fulham v Forest. And I've just started listening to John Le Carre's The Pigeon Tunnel. It's very good. Dry. Droll. Angry. I'm preferring his 'real' stories to his fiction. And he's good at accents and impressions. He does a subtle Alec Guinness.