Wednesday, August 27

Wasting my money

Up town this morning for the motor’s annual service (and a skive). I declined the offer of a courtesy car in favour of my bus pass, but couldn’t leave without sticking my head in at the adjacent Ferrari dealership. They have a promotion on the Maserati Ghibli – the vehicle supposed to take Maserati mainstream, and are knocking them out for £48k. Unfortunately next to a Ferrari the Ghibli looks a tad boring, and its diesel engine doesn’t exactly say sexy performance car.

 Breakfast in the usual coffee shop, which, like most university cities, has a fair share of student customers. Give me students any day of the week: a lively enough bunch, and they don’t have prams. Forty passengers on a bus and all it take to make our lives a misery is one screaming brat.

 Nipped into RAMM to take a second look at the Detached and Timeless exhibition, featuring twenty-five contemporary artists inspired by nature and spirit of place. They’ve beefed up the local collection with works on loan from Plymouth, London’s Southbank, and the national loan collection of modern and contemporary British art. I’m sure I will return again.

Lizzard or Toad? says Matthew Parris in today’s Times, musing on what it means once you turn sixty. He’s not been the same lad since shacking up with a toy boy.

 Back at the homestead it continues to rain. As a treat for the motor I blew seventy-quid on a top of the range valet job. It lasted as far as the final four-hundred yards of my return journey, a fetid slurry of mud, manure and dead badger.

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