Metafictional diary note

I was drinking last night with the Archbishop of Canterbury and he didn’t have any interesting gadgets in his cassock but later that evening I bumped into Sean who showed me the first worthwhile use of an iPhone: fishporn. He had videos of trout in green translucent rivers that looked almost as lovely as the real thing. I didn’t want to see them caught, and I hate the bit where they are lifted from the water to be photographed — kill them or release them, but don’t film their mouths and gills working in the air — but the fish themselves were lovely and bought a sense of wildness and tranquillity to a pub back garden in Southwark. I’m not completely heartless. I did tell Rowan that there was probably still one stuga free in Lapland for the second half of July but we couldn’t agree on a price.