Just spent a fine few hours going through two large boxes of photographs. Some have not seen the light of day for four house moves and at least 12 years.

"But what if I want/need one of them?"

"You don't even know what there is, how could you possibly want/need anything specific."

In best d...

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Just before that bit about "Nor any drop to drink," The Ancient Mariner tells us how the ship's timbers are drying out. For my purposes, those boards could equally well be the boards looking after US farmers. Sure, many of them are facing the worst drought since 1956. But according to NPR's Planet ...

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A few weeks ago I was asked to share some brief thoughts on Rio+20, an assignment I tried to turn down on the grounds that my thoughts on Rio were unpublishable, even in this modern era. But I was prevailed upon. "What advice would you give them? We really want you to use your voice." Who could re...

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Over at the other place, a response from someone very close to Mr Mars-Jones, about that metaphor.

We have been informed, albeit at second hand, that Mr Mars-Jones did not mean his recent remark about purple potatoes to be in any way pejorative.

I know that purple potatoes exist, and I p...

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Adam Mars Jones, a well known author, writes the following in the course of eviscerating Martin Amis, another well-known author:

The same sense of lostness clings to social attitudes. When Des finds a girlfriend, Dawn, the only problem is her racist father, Horace. He’s not just a racist but a throwback of a racist: ‘Your brain’s smaller and a different shape. Whilst hers is normal, yours is closer to a primate’s.’ In the allotment of nasty social attitudes this contorted purple tuber must count as a heritage potato, miraculously re-established from a seed bank.

It is just such a bizarre metaphor; where did it come from, and what does Mr Mars Jones intend by it?