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Regular readers who have grown understandably tired of my overuse of poor sea and water-related metaphors will no doubt be delighted to hear of the delights Santa brought me this year. Not only am I now the owner of this new recording of the wonderfully-watery Sinking Of The Titanic, but also of Peter Ackroyd’s new book of meanderings on the subject of that most gloriously-filthy river - Thames: Sacred River. I’ve only just begun to dip my toes into the book’s black and fast-flowing depths. I’m pretty sure I will get sucked in soon, read half of the thing in one sitting, but then inexplicably forget to return to it i.e. like I do with all books. I can glance across at a pile of started-but-not-yet-finisheds which features – just above the Koran - Will Self’s Book Of Dave on top. I met him once, he scared me by barking like a dog, so he is lucky I bought the damned thing at all, never mind read it.
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