Most of us devote at least some subconscious time to dreaming up money-making schemes that might see us through the recession and allow us to be freed from the tyranny of mortgage payments and the questionable man-management skills of our bosses. Trouble is, few of us have any kind of entrepreneurial flair. Around the corner from my flat, a Sri Lankan chap recently opened a shop selling party accessories – hats, streamers, baubles and so on – and, according to the blackboard outside, he specialises in "puberty ceremonies". Now, I wish him well, but I have a horrible feeling that the demand for, uh, puberty-related bunting in this part of London is on the low side. I certainly don't recall any fanfare or fireworks when I passed into something resembling manhood. I just recall spending a lot of time listening to The Cure and crying for no reason, although that might have been because I was listening to The Cure. ( Read more... )