When marketing meant just, marketing, perhaps

  Of all the delightful discoveries
  in internet reading that I've made
  since offering this blog - some of
  which I mean to admire this week,
  marking yet another year of it - 
  Ivan Terestchenko's referral of 
  Mailhos has meant as much to me as
  Valéry Lorenzo's of Lionel André's.
    
  You will see them there, listed in
  this page's "Context," although I 
  don't think I've ever mentioned it
  to them. These two blogs capture a
  fellow's imagination with the hap-
  piest interplay of complementary
  values: the one, agrarian and his-
  toricist, and nourishingly domes-
  tic; the other, searchingly ad-
  venturous, and holistically phil-
  osophical. I only wish I didn't 
  have to leave them for my page. 
  Or, one could do more shopping?

Bumped into Dirk Bogarde in Fry's splendid vegetable shop in Cale Street. He was fingering oddly shaped tomatoes with a knowledgeable air. He rejected them and cast a dark eye over some frivolous greenery. He finally settled for a big, shiny yellow pepper. I was envious of his concentrated marketing skill.

The media seem to have gathered round the parish pump to discuss the challenge to the Prime Minister, and to speculate .. Not a word about Sarajevo.





























Sir Alec Guinness
My Name Escapes Me
  The Diary of a Retiring Actor
  30 June 1995
Penguin, 1996©