After my usual Red Lion Sunday roast, I trod the familiar path to the beer garden at the Playhouse Theatre. Unusually full it seemed to me. Had to interlope on a table where sat three people huddled around two Macs. The young man of the trio, c.25 was inscrutably handsome. I silently questioned his responsibility as a bearer of such beauty. And arrived at a title, The Duty of Beauty, which as Google reminds us, you can never be the first anymore. What to do with title? Not sure. Any suggestions?
Tother end of table, a chap reading. Just finishing a book called Environmental Philosophy. The question at hand being whether or not philosophy can be extended to the rest of the world, that is, the non-human part of it – plants and animals etc. As I was reading Wittgenstein's Poker at the same table, we got chatting. Lo! He's Australian and moved to UEA to do his masters. Conversation was choppy and he fled.
Do I scare them, bore them, or make them feel uncomfortable? I don't know what lessons I missed at charm school, but I certainly set all potentially interesting people in flight mode.