I've just returned from an idyllic weekend away in Oxford. Being an idle sort, I never troubled the Oxford admissions people with my presence when considering an academic career. However, I did have enough about me to marry an Oxonian. The wife's alma mater were having an old members' garden party, so off we went.
There's no greater place on Earth in high Summer than the front quod of an Oxford college, with a complimentary glass of Pimms in one hand and a croquet mallet in the other. After an hour of croquet, approximately three pints of Pimms and a relaxing chat with old friends, we topped the day off with a curry. Marvelous. There is big crepe sub-culture in Oxford I noticed. Hampstead has a big crepe fanbase too. People queue for miles for them outside Hampstead's pubs. I've never understood why. They absolutely lose their collective minds for the things. It's like middle-class catnip.
In other news, there's a wafer-thin "thought" piece on the BBC web site today about fat celebs being a bad influence on children and others. I don't know about that. It seems to be the logical apotheosis of the culture of blaming others for one's own shortcoming. As my Mother used the ask rhetorically: "If he jumped in the fire, would you?".
Having said all that though, I was brought up short by those nude shots of Beth Ditto in some magazine or other recently. She's an attractive, young women, Beth, and she dresses in a striking and considered way. Good for her. She is, though, a big old lump. There's no getting away from the fact. I know we could argue long into the night about female body image fascism and her striking a blow for the sisterhood and all that, but she's a big, fat old whack without her drawers on. I'm all for young women being freed from the tyranny of size zero role models, but hasn't the pendulum swung slight too far in the opposite direction when a morbidly obese role model is substituted for them?
There's no greater place on Earth in high Summer than the front quod of an Oxford college, with a complimentary glass of Pimms in one hand and a croquet mallet in the other. After an hour of croquet, approximately three pints of Pimms and a relaxing chat with old friends, we topped the day off with a curry. Marvelous. There is big crepe sub-culture in Oxford I noticed. Hampstead has a big crepe fanbase too. People queue for miles for them outside Hampstead's pubs. I've never understood why. They absolutely lose their collective minds for the things. It's like middle-class catnip.
In other news, there's a wafer-thin "thought" piece on the BBC web site today about fat celebs being a bad influence on children and others. I don't know about that. It seems to be the logical apotheosis of the culture of blaming others for one's own shortcoming. As my Mother used the ask rhetorically: "If he jumped in the fire, would you?".
Having said all that though, I was brought up short by those nude shots of Beth Ditto in some magazine or other recently. She's an attractive, young women, Beth, and she dresses in a striking and considered way. Good for her. She is, though, a big old lump. There's no getting away from the fact. I know we could argue long into the night about female body image fascism and her striking a blow for the sisterhood and all that, but she's a big, fat old whack without her drawers on. I'm all for young women being freed from the tyranny of size zero role models, but hasn't the pendulum swung slight too far in the opposite direction when a morbidly obese role model is substituted for them?
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