(no subject)
Today I went to see Nick Cohen at the book festival, rather unexpectedly. My mum had to pull out (she was going with a friend, but had too much work on) and asked could I please please go. So, I did, because she was so clearly desperate, and didn't want to let Margaret down. So at lunchtime off I went.
It started badly - my scooter was playing silly buggers. I got caught in a rain shower yesterday, and my scooter did not feel well at all. Even worse noises than usual started coming out of it, which is saying something. Also, it meant that when I got home, I couldn't charge it, unless I wanted to be electrocuted. So I had to leave it to dry out.
Come this morning, it was neither completely dried out, nor charged up. I just about made it to the event, with my scooter protesting every step of the way. God knows how it managed Dundas street. Anyway, I just about made it (scooter also going extremely slow due to charge/damp issues), and met Margaret in the theatre.
Nick Cohen, in case you are wondering, wrote 'What's Left? How Liberals Lost their Way'. He seemed like an interesting enough guy, I found some of his ideas interesting anyway. He wasn't a fatastic speaker, but then very few people are these days (Radio 4's huming and hawing is a good example of this trend. People are just taught differently). But, I didn't really get to hear as much about what he thought as I would like, because the interviewer, Iain McWhirter, was quite astonishly apalling. He didn't seem to grasp what is actually required of a book festival interviewer. We are there because we are interested in what the author has to say, and so that the author can promote his book. The interviewer should facilitate this, enabling the author to speak widely about what's in his book. Instead, this particular interviewer was overtly hostile, even interrupting Nick Cohen and cutting him off. Fair enough if it's Newsnight with Jeremy Paxman, but completely inappropriate for this kind of event. I don't really give a toss what some non-entity interviewer thinks, I came to see the author. You should at least feign sympathy if you can't muster it.
Then, it only got worse. The audience were almost uniformly hostile, but not in any intelligent way. They were the sort of self-indulgent questions you get on Question-Time, or at Oxford Union debates - there is alledgedly a question somewhere in there, but really it's just a statement of their opinion. Frankly, I don't care. Ask a sodding question, don't just sit admiring the sound of your voice. The other type of self-indulgent question in evidence was the 'Why didn't you write about X?' sort. So we had one gentleman asking why Cohen didn't write about the Right. Er, because the book is about the Left, as it says on the cover. Call me odd...
Sorry, but it was a bit torturous. This is why I usually don't go to political events - they attract this sort of questioner.
Anyway, I just about got home with scooter limping. Reckoned it was dry enough to charge, so set it up so I could go to the Sisters bucket-shake tonight. Only, it started to rain, really heavily. The collecting was pretty much outdoors for the night. This was not going to work. So instead I've been sitting in tidying my bedroom and writing letters to my mum, that I may or may not actually be brave enough to give her. Sigh.
Some days...
It started badly - my scooter was playing silly buggers. I got caught in a rain shower yesterday, and my scooter did not feel well at all. Even worse noises than usual started coming out of it, which is saying something. Also, it meant that when I got home, I couldn't charge it, unless I wanted to be electrocuted. So I had to leave it to dry out.
Come this morning, it was neither completely dried out, nor charged up. I just about made it to the event, with my scooter protesting every step of the way. God knows how it managed Dundas street. Anyway, I just about made it (scooter also going extremely slow due to charge/damp issues), and met Margaret in the theatre.
Nick Cohen, in case you are wondering, wrote 'What's Left? How Liberals Lost their Way'. He seemed like an interesting enough guy, I found some of his ideas interesting anyway. He wasn't a fatastic speaker, but then very few people are these days (Radio 4's huming and hawing is a good example of this trend. People are just taught differently). But, I didn't really get to hear as much about what he thought as I would like, because the interviewer, Iain McWhirter, was quite astonishly apalling. He didn't seem to grasp what is actually required of a book festival interviewer. We are there because we are interested in what the author has to say, and so that the author can promote his book. The interviewer should facilitate this, enabling the author to speak widely about what's in his book. Instead, this particular interviewer was overtly hostile, even interrupting Nick Cohen and cutting him off. Fair enough if it's Newsnight with Jeremy Paxman, but completely inappropriate for this kind of event. I don't really give a toss what some non-entity interviewer thinks, I came to see the author. You should at least feign sympathy if you can't muster it.
Then, it only got worse. The audience were almost uniformly hostile, but not in any intelligent way. They were the sort of self-indulgent questions you get on Question-Time, or at Oxford Union debates - there is alledgedly a question somewhere in there, but really it's just a statement of their opinion. Frankly, I don't care. Ask a sodding question, don't just sit admiring the sound of your voice. The other type of self-indulgent question in evidence was the 'Why didn't you write about X?' sort. So we had one gentleman asking why Cohen didn't write about the Right. Er, because the book is about the Left, as it says on the cover. Call me odd...
Sorry, but it was a bit torturous. This is why I usually don't go to political events - they attract this sort of questioner.
Anyway, I just about got home with scooter limping. Reckoned it was dry enough to charge, so set it up so I could go to the Sisters bucket-shake tonight. Only, it started to rain, really heavily. The collecting was pretty much outdoors for the night. This was not going to work. So instead I've been sitting in tidying my bedroom and writing letters to my mum, that I may or may not actually be brave enough to give her. Sigh.
Some days...