The power of a single word

It’s such a powerful, brilliant word, and yet it’s horribly overused. We say it when we don’t mean it and get ourselves into obligations we can’t get out of. We attack questions using it as the bullets in our machine-gun defence. It becomes staccato. Unrhythmic. It’s everything this word wasn’t meant to be. I’m talking…

The twenty-minute Bohemian

I’m not saying I actually want to be an impoverished artist in fin-de-siecle Paris, living off cigarettes and the goodwill of others, pale and interesting and destined for tubercular demise. But I think you can’t beat a little bit of fantasy to enable a small escape, and I love nothing better than packing my notebook and pretending I’m heading off to Les…