I cannot, despite persistent attempts to do so,
understand the notion of supporting a sports team.
I am learning to play washboard and pandeiro.
I hate shaving.
My favourite advertising slogan ever (from Fabulous Bakin’ Boys’ cup cakes) read:
“Live fast, play hard, eat cakes”.
I sort of wish Dr. Evil was real.
I am a feminist.
I was twice a tent commander in the Brighton Battalion of the Boys’ Brigade.
I like drinking red wine, but despise hangovers.
I wrote my PhD thesis about drummers.
I rejected the hypothesis of God about 17 years ago, and have since become much more understanding, friendly, and happy.
The price of ink for printers makes me disproportionately angry.
I once promised my oldest friend I would wax my legs for her wedding, subsequently discovered what that would involve, and instead just played drums for the event.
I cried when I read Jane Eyre.
I miss singing madrigals.
I hate wearing Y-fronts.
I am a total coffee snob.
I wish I hadn’t lost my nose-flute in a pub in 2010.
I am sincerely grateful for the existence of the NHS.
I think that Catch 22, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy are much better books than The Bible.
I like the music of Mozart, Messiaen, Miles Davis, King Crimson, Led Zeppelin,
Stephen Sondheim, the Dixie Chicks, Snarky Puppy, QOTSR and Immortal Technique equally.
I am not in the least patriotic, because I can’t distinguish clearly enough between patriotism, nationalism, protectionism, insularity and xenophobia.
I am exactly 12 inches taller than my wife.
I love to read spy novels.
I think progressive rock is much maligned.
I wish I had learned to play vibraphone.