This is a place for brooding out loud about culture, politics, and the general state of things. It started as a cultural diary — theatre, exhibitions, opera, the odd concert — written for no one in particular and published here mostly to impose some discipline on the thinking. It has become something broader.
Alongside the reviews you will find essays on politics, economics, architecture, energy, philosophy, science, geography, and history, written in the same spirit: curious, opinionated, and with no particular interest in being balanced for its own sake.
I am an ageing, misanthropic, liberal/lefty type, fully paid up member of the London metropolitan elite, who used to work in finance. I don’t apologise for any of it. A walking dialectic. If you have found your way here, you are probably either lost or in exactly the right place.
At Home He Feels Like A Tourist 