However, I must confess that a parcel in the post has me pleasure pumping endorphins in the limbic brain that must hark back to hunter-gatherer ancestry. I was, and remain, an inveterate scrounger. As a child, I would make covert raids to scavenge through the neighbours' bins - particularly those belonging to families with similarly aged children. Many's a time I'd come home with Hoovered victims - dusty bricks of LEGO or perhaps a headless Action Man that had been subjected to some hybrid Celtic-voodoo ritual. Therapy didn't help, by the way. Show me a skip and I have to be restrained from climbing in. Beachcombing I consider a vocation.
Anyway, I got an email from someone suggesting that my readers might be interested in a book on surf culture. From the peoploids behind the conspiratorially titled "The September Project" and Stranger Magazine (always a good read but recently a stranger from the shop shelves), comes "The Book Of Surfing".
From the pics they sent it looks like a good read but the skinflints want me to blurb about it and they haven't sent me a copy to review! Don't they know that there's no such thing as a free lunch? I was hoping they could call it the "Big Book Of Surfing" and there'd be pop up pop out surfboards for me to colour in. Or a "spot the difference" page with duplicate shots of trendy board shorts subtly altered with prizes for finding all the tweaks and missing floral prints. Perhaps it's all in there, but I may never know. PS: No-one has sent me a JCB - yet - but as I'm currently living on a building site, one would come in handy.