Saturday PM

Brian Sewell is dead. I had no strong feelings about Brian Sewell. He could be clever, waspish, camp and inspired - and sometimes crass, snobbish and cruel. So, basically, just like everyone else, in one way or another. He was a critic, and critics are interesting because they 'can't' and hate those who 'do' so their opinion is worth much less but they can redeem themselves by dressing it up as something fun to read. He was a complete shit sometimes and hated the north - but kind to animals, a big dog lover and had a voice for radio.

I have a stinking cold - I spent half the afternoon asleep. I haven’t had a proper cold in at least a decade. Why is it always on a weekend?

I’m avoiding much social intercourse at the moment. Corbyn-mania is at it’s height and I have decided not to get involved. It’s reaching nonsense proportions now. I loathe it when people plaster Shakespearean metaphors to situations, but looking at the make-up of the shadow cabinet, such as it id - I’m minded to anticipate the newspaper headline - “Et Tu, Burnham?” - I’m sure it’s already been written.

I updated my iPhone as demanded. I no longer understand how to use it - and I keep getting locked out of my account. It’s absurd. Happens every time. I’ve not bothered topping up the PAYG either for a few weeks - it’s incoming calls only. I am perfectly comfortable with that.

I watched ‘An Inspector Calls’ on iPlayer the other day - new BBC production. It was very good indeed.

It’s the Hastings Seafood and Wine festival this weekend. Another jolly for the town, 2 days of stalls and drink.

Due to my now epic short term memory issues - the dogs have started taking advantage of the new reality by demanding to be fed repeatedly - and as I can’t usually remember if I’ve done it - they are probably getting extra meals every day. All of which I have to pay for.