My television is famously effective in spite of its great age. Or should I say was. Yes, Photo Essay fans, mere DAYS after I praised it in such moving terms to a potential audience of millions and an actual audience of not that, the picture has started to shift an inch to the left.
This can be rectified by tapping the television, which feels like magic and might be, but might also be electronics. But it feels like the beginning of the end.
Now I am going to the British Library to read dirty books. I will be discussing dirty books very amusingly later this week. I have also worked out that teaching you to cook might make for some very inspiring photo essays. Miss Jones will learn the secrets of my mother's coleslaw at last, which has taken on a status in her mind, I can only imagine, analogous to Lucia's Lobster a la Riseholme.