InsideMyHead

With a friend of mine we have decided to stick two fingers up to the rest of the (capitalist) world and go traveling like in the good old days. Of course due to our age we'd like to do it in style, while keeping a true spirit of adventure and costs as low as possible. It seems that the job market doesn't need us any more, we are too old, too good at what we do, too cynical and not very willing to nod our heads and jump anytime a higher hierarch asks us to. No regrets, we'd be wanting to do it for a very long time. In fact since we started working—he in the arts and I in the world of media. Having worked in these industries we have both enjoyed more freedom than the average person but even so we think that the current economic situation is too hopeless and harsh and we don't see any future prospect for neither of us or any point in carrying on working. So, the next move will be: buying a caravan and go traveling wherever our fancy takes us. The idea is to sta

In the last couple of days a debate about ageism and women broadcasters has been going on TV and all the major newspapers in the UK. A well known BBC presenter dismissed from her job because of her age (over 50), at least so she claims, has submitted her case to an employment tribunal  and has won it for unfair dismissal. Such a victory should worm every woman's heart for a few seconds at least. But does it? Ageism towards women starts at a very early age. Remember the old song "Sweet Sixteen"? If you were in your 20s at the time you probably thought that your love life was already over and that men were too busy chasing after 16 years old in school uniforms to even notice you in your jeans and old jumper. In my opinion ageism is not the right word, reality is much uglier then that. What if you are young but are not, shall we say, "photogenic" (remember this word?) could you ever become a TV presenter. I think not. If we make a list in our head of all TV presen

È quell’inizio perfetto, come aprire una lattina di birra a strappo... che mi fa capire che andrà bene esattamente come prevedevo, e le parole scorreranno senza intoppi nella mia mente. È allora che penso: “se solo avessi un foglio potrei scrivere tutto” ma succede sempre che mi trovi su un bus o un aereo, o che stia guardando un film al cinema. Ieri è stato un aereo il mio momento di ispirazione massima.  Seduta, per fortuna, vicino al finestrino con una strana passeggera alla mia destra, ho potuto pensare ai fatti miei mentre guardavo nella notte buia; il cielo era limpido, non c’erano nuvole, né vento e quando si è avvicinata Parigi è stata tutta una visione di luci tremolanti che formavano strane sagome, sembrava una città di stagno, lucida e argentata. Poi è arrivata Londra, tutta d’oro, spessa e solida, niente tremolii ma tanta luce abbagliante e strane forme di pennacchi a spirale, attorcigliati e tutti uguali come quei bracciali a 24 carati a maglia larga che portavano gli as