Having shocked friends and family by moving home from the UK to Italy, this is the story and thoughts of a man on a personal journey from Blackpool Tower to the Leaning Tower of Pisa via 30 years working in and around London. En route he shares his very personal perspectives on life and even though la dolce vita proved elusive, and we’re mostly re-established back in the UK, the Pasta Paulie pen-name stuck. A bit like the pasta round my waist.
Well the last posting got a bit reflective; it started out as one of my many diatribes on the foibles and flaws in the people featured on tv. I love to study anyone who is self-absorbed (and tv is choc full of them) and to then scratch away at their veneer of gloss till I find the shallowness underneath. It sounds cruel but, hey, they set themselves up for some criticism and I mostly try and do it without being unfairly hurtful. And in the last posting I thought I was straying into aiming appearance barbs at people who were just being filmed doing their very caring volunteer work and not seeking celebrity. And I hope we’re better than that. Even if I did feel one person did deserve to have his look at me-ness pricked a tad. Yes SC, I mean you. Continue reading