Occasionally I am asked “what’s next?” by friends. At times it is well-meaning, at others withering. “What about another paper?” they ask. “Or something more serious? Surely you can’t eke out another 400 words on martinis?”
And well, look — this paper may have driven me mad over the years, but I’ve become enormously fond of it. I like its history. I like that Quentin Crewe — at one point our helicopter correspondent (journalism: never what it used to be) — is credited with inventing the modern restaurant review, preferring style and social commentary over perceptively identifying chicken from beef.
