Lying in bed, I abandoned the facts again and was back in Ambrosia.

The longer an event is anticipated-a milestone birthday, an eclipse, a new millennium-the more likely it is to be an anti-climax.

Life is a campus: in a Greenwich Village bookstore, looking for a New Yorker collection, I asked of an earnest-looking assistant where I might find the humour section. Peering over her granny glasses, she enquired, "Humour studies would that be, sir?"

I cannot bring myself to vote for a woman who has been voice-trained to speak to me as though my dog has just died.

Should not the Society of Indexers be known as Indexers, Society of, The?

Trying to keep up with current slang sucks.

Lying in bed, I abandoned the facts again and was back in Ambrosia.