A short break in posting yesterday: I was out and about in London and so took a break from blogging. And so it was that I fetched up at Euston station late afternoon with a little time to kill.
Time was that one might buy a copy of the Evening Standard to pass the time and read on the train journey home. But times change: the paper is now a free sheet, and so getting a copy became a no-brainer – or so I thought.
Because the content of yesterday’s “West End Final” edition was as forgettable as it was shallow. Reading through it within the spare time to hand was so easy that I could have done it twice over. Thus the Standard did not even make it on to the train with me.
The thought entered that you get what you pay for.
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