October 10th, 2003


Memory Man

Nostalgia is hanging heavily in the air today, along with some particularly aged dust. Sorting out boxes of old correspondence and photographs, plenty of detritus. Confronted with an immense amount of memories. I'm very tempted to skip the whole thing and go off to see Kill Bill.
I woke to the sound of Nigella Lawson on Desert Island Discs. One of the strange side effects of the 極道 lifestyle I led in Japan is the amount of false memories I now have. This includes once snogging the now Mrs Saatchi at a teenage party. I am certain this never happened, but I have the memory. The mother of a friend of mine at school was very good friends with Nigella's mother and I definitely ate lunch with her a few times when I was about 16 or so. I also met Nigel in his pre-diet days at some soiree she organised. Visiting my friend occasionally involved meeting prominent members of the then Tory cabinet which meant we couldn't occupy our time drinking, smoking dope or watching bad videos. When NL came to the screen as celebrity cook, I suddenly 'remembered' that I had met her at some party many years ago. It was all very hazy, but I was sure it had occured. It certainly didn't. I know this now. The Manchurian Candidate indeed.
Curiously, Nigella's choice of music seemed chiefly inspired by the summer of '88 and at least three tunes were old school classics of that time. There was some discussion in the press about her inclusion of a Dr Dre track and how appropriate it was for a well-educated and well-heeled woman like herself to profess a liking for hip-hop. Not a question that's asked if you profess a liking for Delta blues - 'So have you ever lived in a shotgun shack, Keith?' - and just an opportunity to slap her down I reckon. I'd be perfectly happy to meet Nigella Lawson at a party, but there is a possible danger that Peter Greenaway may have been invited as well. Nigella's luxury was a bottle of liquid temazepam. That won me over.
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