I’ve not even managed to ascend to middlebrow. I loath ballet, find opera mostly sounds like a bit of coke caught under the backyard gate swinging in the wind, visits to art galleries remind me of the work I was turning out at infant school age six and three quarters, and I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than read the ‘great classics’. I recall prior to the launch of Classic FM, the Radio Three listening, highbrow wallahs all lining up to bemoan that it would destroy real classic music, the sky would fall, it shouldn’t be permitted, and better the masses heard none at all if they could not hear it ‘properly’.
Funnily enough, the most interesting post-war British novelist JG Ballard fled to the suburbs in the late sixties and never left. He swore by them.
Magic! Let them indulge for I have no wish to endure myself on the cold slab of 'culture'.
I’ve not even managed to ascend to middlebrow. I loath ballet, find opera mostly sounds like a bit of coke caught under the backyard gate swinging in the wind, visits to art galleries remind me of the work I was turning out at infant school age six and three quarters, and I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than read the ‘great classics’. I recall prior to the launch of Classic FM, the Radio Three listening, highbrow wallahs all lining up to bemoan that it would destroy real classic music, the sky would fall, it shouldn’t be permitted, and better the masses heard none at all if they could not hear it ‘properly’.