When Andrei Shevchenko inspired Ukraine to victory in their opening match of Euro 2012, my mind went back just over 26 years to a warm evening in Lyon and the final of the 1986 European Cup Winners’ Cup.
The other day I came back to my desk and someone I work with had left a book for me. On the press release that came with it, they had scribbled a note. “Thought you might like this – Christian”. I went and found Christian and thanked him. He gave me a puzzled look. “What book?” “That book you left on my desk.” “No, no, wasn’t me.”
The death of a great stage actor is a reminder that alone among art forms theatre is the most ephemeral. Every other endeavour – music, film, visual art, TV, radio – can and is preserved for posterity, but the sensation of witnessing an extraordinary performance live on stage can only ever be fleeting. It lives on nowhere but in the memory.
If journalism’s version of what would Jesus do is what would The New Yorker do, then one of the most fiercely argued over points of grammar may finally have been settled.
I was really looking forward to Jonathan Meades on France this week, but my heart sank a bit when, early on, the programme succumbed to a concept that’s curiously, even tiresomely prevalent across TV and radio. And Meades is usually so original.
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