From the editor-in-chief
You can never step in the same river twice, according to the philosopher Heraclitus. My question is whether that is true of streams as well?
This line of thinking (if I can call it that) started on an apparently unremarkable evening when my wife and I were having a casual dinner with friends. For the sake of discretion and ease of description, we will call the friends Earwig and Timpani.
Both our daughters were occupied that evening and we were stealing some parental rest and recreation. Timpani had made her trademark sweet potato frittata and Earwig clearly felt he had excelled himself in putting together a rocket, avocado and balsamic salad. It had all been followed by some lemon yoghurt cake (a Timpani creation) washed down with tea. It was an unadorned but utterly enjoyable, post-lockdown evening as conversation whirred through the usual suspects of what the kids are doing, the evils of social media, the desiccation of political leadership and whether Earwig and I look good in denim. It all went swimmingly until conversation turned to what we had “been watching”.