My weekend is never complete without a copy of the Guardian. It has become an integral part of my Saturday morning, waking up, throwing on my woolly hat, jeans and a comfy jumper and heading down to the Hades of Tesco to grab a copy of it, together with a box of croissants and maybe some fruit juice or a bottle of San Pellegrino. Then a hasty retreat back to the safety of the duvet, casting off the street clothes and tearing open the polythene wrapping which contains the newspaper. I go for the Weekend section first, and check on how my favourite columnists have managed with their variously calamitous weeks. Then it's the Travel section for some inspiration and morning reverie; the Guide for more columns and a look at what my ideal week might involve, entertainment-wise; the Work section out of habit; then I gradually work my way through the rest of it, cherry-picking the best pieces, the bits that appeal. An article on Jacques Demy, Diana Rigg's diary, a Sebastião Salgado photo-essay. All whilst dropping croissant crumbs on myself and slurping a cup of tea. In my very humble opinion, there's no more civilised way to start a weekend. And there's no more civilised ending that blogging about it either. Sometimes I do think I have a civilised life. It's terribly nice. And so to this week's Staples:
The Guardian on a Saturday
Mariah Carey's 'All I Want for Christmas'
Aveda for Men hair products
Having a good clear-out
Steven Poliakoff dramas
Black M&S cotton socks
The Crown on New Oxford St.
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