Arthur Smith

The real change that paintings undergo is in the perceptions of the viewer.

Listening to Chris Moyles on Radio 1 is the most miserable thing any human being can do, but attending awards ceremonies isn't far behind.

It was Julie Burchill who decreed that, beyond a certain age, a man should not be seen in a leather jacket.

I am 54 and age is slowly writing itself on my face.

The moon puts on an elegant show, different every time in shape, colour and nuance.

It's the time of year when the literati give advice on what we should be reading on our summer holidays. These terrifying lists often leave me appalled at my own ignorance, but also suspicious about the pretension of their advocates.

The outfits come and go but there is a constant that I like about the catwalk model: the snotty expression.

Only the pun remains. The pun, beloved of Shakespeare, children and tabloid headline-writers, is normally eschewed in the modern, sophisticated circles in which I move.

After you've read a novel, you only retain a vague memory of its contents. You remember the atmosphere, the odd image or phrase or vivid cameo.