Home Truths

I was telling you about a discovery that I made about myself.
That I'm going to have to face, with whatever belated dignity I can muster.

I recently went to the cinema.
You may have heard of the award-winning silent movie that has taken all the plaudits, The Artist, a ground-rebreaking tribute to silent film of (presumably) the 1920s, an artistic tour de force, with a combination of a supremely intelligent and witty script, Oscar-winning soundtrack and impeccable performances?
Yes?
Well, I went to watch the Muppets instead. (It was great).

I'm updating my stereo system.
I'm reliably informed you're not supposed to call it a stereo system any more. Frankly I'm not sure what you are supposed to call it. Let's go for micro hi-fi with DAB and iPod dock and agree never to speak of this again. I looked at the Denon, an award-winning annually impressive class act, that will be the pride of any home. I looked at the Marantz. I remember guys at school talking about these names as they made their masturbatory pilgrimages to Richer Sounds. It was always a bit scary, a bit serious.
Gold cable? Really?
And these devices had tough competition in the market from Sony and Pioneer.
But I've just bought the Pure machine.
Largely, because it was shinier and had more lights.

I've seen an opera or two.
Good ones.
I've listened to folk music,  in a weak moment, and sometimes found enjoyable bits in there.
But what I really quite like is electro-pop.
And for that matter, pop in general.
I've occasionally visited classical music, but I could take or leave it.
Preferably leave, if I'm honest.

On occasions, I've been to the ballet and modern dance.
I wasn't blown away by either of them.
I've seen a bit of Shakespeare but enjoyed it best when there was someone I knew from TV or a great comic turn.

And if I read anything before I go to bed, I reach past the Economist and pickup the Viz for 10 minutes and invariably have a giggle.

This is my discovery.
You see as it turns out...

I'm quite trashy.