I didn’t expect the new pool at Reading’s Rivermead Leisure Centre to be a place where I would be shockingly reminded of my own mortality. I like a bit of a swim, and thought the facility would be a grand place to get back into the habit. The problem was, I booked a fitness session by accident, and found myself trapped in a lane where there was no real chance to take it at an easy pace. Every time I turned I was faced by a determined-looking pensioner bearing down on me disapprovingly.
Readership, I lasted twenty minutes, and five of those were me perched on the side of the pool trying not to cough up a lung. When a concerned lifeguard came up and asked if I was OK, I knew I’d over-extended.
I’ll be back, but making darn sure to to book a gentler session. Obviously, I’ve been spoiled by empty hotel pools for far too long. Once my shoulders have fully popped back into their sockets, that is…
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
A big collection of Damon Knight’s short stories. A master of the form, his work is well worth studying if you have any interest in this most exacting of disciplines. Knight was a pivotal figure in SF’s Golden Age, not just as author but editor, critic and convention organiser. He’s best known for ‘To Serve Man’, but there’s a lot more to check out. Recommended.
Rob is watching…
Glastonbury, while sending instructions to a bunch of pals on site as to the cool things to go and see, including the laser-winged dragonfly made out of an old Westland helicopter at Arcadia. Worth checking out the build on iPlayer. The final creature is a thing of rare and unearthly beauty.
Rob is listening…
Haven’t heard this in fifteen years, and it’s subsequently sent me down a 90s retro groove-hole alongside bands like The Thrills, the Cosmic Rough Riders and yes, even The La’s. Great stuff, tremendously evocative of an exciting time in my life.
Rob is eating…
Never underestimate the uses to which you can put a bag of chicken thighs, poached off in the pressure cooker with a little stock and ranch seasoning and then shredded. Cook them with skin and bone on and you get even more flavour. A topping for flatbreads, the base for a pasta bake, the filling for an excellent sandwich with a little coleslaw. Maximum bang for minimum buck buck buck.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
The art of popping out beading around a double-glazed window pane so it can be easily removed. It involves a deadly-looking tool called a moon knife, a modicum of skill and a very particular twisting motion. Curiously proud of myself once I figured it out. Just another part of the joys of home ownership, people.
I always thought they came from National Trust book nooks, but I’m happy to be more accurately informed.
There is a shortage of chartreuse, one of the most esoteric liquors on the wet bar. Made from almost 70 herbs, flavourings and botanicals, it’s made in small batches by a tiny enclave of monks who seem uninterested in sharing the recipe behind its creation. Bartenders, then, are reverse-engineering the stuff, coming up with their own blends before the secret is lost forever. Surely it’s written down somewhere, right?
There is a massive disconnect between how AI is presented, and what it is actually capable of doing. At this point it’s a buzzword, a sales pitch, a marketing ploy. It has the incredible capacity to suck all the life out of any conversation, and the vast majority of people don’t purposefully use it or even care.
So to Nikhil Suresh, who has frankly had enough of the whole sorry circus.
Props to Jez of The Story Board, the first one to alert me to the diaries of the rarely-employed actor who inspired Bruce Robinson to lightly fictionalise him into the character of Withnail. It seems as if he was toned down a bit for the screen. Truth is richer and stranger than fiction.
This Vittles bit by Noreen Masud is not just about a particular kind of robust pulse. Good food writing is never just talks about the grub. Noreen digs into memory, family, guilt, identity and the connection which comes from a simple meal shared with generosity. You’d think that’s a lot to pile onto a chickpea. It really isn’t.
Anthony Bourdain continues to influence us years after his death. He understood, like Noreen above, that food is never just about flavour or sustainable—it’s a key part of the human experience and should be treated as such. Widely travelled, always hungry, since his passing he has become an icon in the original sense of the term, an image onto which we can load all manner of meaning and opinion. I suspect he would have found the whole thing tiresome but mildly amusing.
Girls don’t miss their ex, they miss Anthony Bourdain.
The best use of the classic excuse from a major literary figure. Steal from the best, right?
And lastly, while I am going to try to swerve the upcoming political maelstrom in the UK, at least in these pages until it’s actually landed, a gentle reminder as to what’s at stake and what has happened over the last fourteen years may just help to inform your choice. Wherever you put your cross next week, be sure to make your mark.
Let’s Outro in celebration of Idles headlining set at Glastonbury last night. I present their greatest moment—a cover of Hey Duggee’s Stick Song. Turn it up and bounce along.
See you in seven, fellow travellers.
EXCUSES AND HALF TRUTHS 