When I was a boy, in the hazy days of the early 90s, Jeremy Clarkson would appear on my telly, clad almost entirely in denim, leaning against mid-range Nissan saloons and talking about clutches. This was a worthy purpose, I surmised. At that age, like many boys, I found the pantheon of differing cars on…
Read more...I’m one of those tediously uber-rational types who disavow all superstitions, pseudoscientific claims and assertions of cosmic destiny. As far as I’m concerned, with 7 billion people bumbling around the planet, the odds of spooky ‘I-bet-you-can’t-explain-that’ stuff happening on a daily basis are actually pretty high. It’s surely just statistical probability that coincidences will fling…
Read more...I am a terrible sleeper. I’m really, really bad at it, and not through lack of practice. I’ve been putting in the requisite hours of training since the day I was born. By Malcolm Gladwell’s estimations, I should be a world-class snoozer by now, having easily clocked up way more than 10,000 hours of slumber….
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