Sunday wound down nicely with 2MBS-FM and a program of an Italian tenor that I should have heard of, but hadn’t: Ferruccio Tagliavini. Great voice.
Lunch earlier was at Johnnie’s Fish Cafe, where we were meant to go last week. Sirdan and B had an appointment with Star Wars so they were not there, but Lord Malcolm, Simon H and I were, and it was as ever – really good. Afterwards we all went to The Oxford where I had the very rare experience of being lusted after… Really. In quite a big way. The person concerned was pleasant and interesting, Hibernian, and I think could be reconciled to the lusting, while flattering, being not quite what I have in mind these days… We shall see.
And yes, younger than Lord Malcolm and Simon H but older than Mister Rabbit… In fact about half-way between, come to think of it. These things happen, of course, but not often to me, or not lately.
Back to books. Yes. A good pickup from Surry Hills Library last week was Australian writer Andrew Masterson, or rather his novel Death of the Author (2001) which does blend literary theory into a crime fiction plot, as the title suggests. It does it very wittily too. Bit of a shock ending though. Highly recommended.