Something happened to me this evening. I don't know what it was.
Let me set the scene - I'm at an art gallery here in Edinburgh, and Mr Twinky is powdering his nose. I'm looking at a handbag on the floor and a man touches me on the shoulder. I turn.
"Excuse me," he says. "I just wanted to tell you that you're beautiful."
That was pretty much it. I said "Thank you", he said "you're welcome" and we parted and never spoke of it again.
He was wandering around the room, clearly not looking at the art, but he had an air about him, an air of belonging. I reckon there's one of two things that have happened.
He fancied me, and thought he had a chance if he told me.
Or, it was a random act of Art. An intangible performance piece - a piece which I'm continuing by writing this. Clearly it had an impact on me, and made me think - which is key to my personal definition of art.
I found myself watching out for him as I looked at the other art - to see if he was doing it to other people. Part of me wanted him to be an artist. I wanted to be certain of that. Part of me wanted him not to be - because I certainly found his comment flattering, if confusing. I don't know. Maybe I wasn't meant to know.
I did find out later, though. I was very happy with what I found out.
Beholder is at the Talbot Rice Gallery, Edinburgh from today.
I felt pretty silly the other week.
I stood in the street and queued for a new telephone.
Now, part of me knew there was always a possibility of this. I've got definite nerdy tendencies, and Apple's technology has an undoubted fetishism about it. But I still told myself as I got to the shop just as it was opening "I'll only stay if there's no queue". Two hours later, I had a phone. Just as well, really, as the old one was falling apart.
I've had it about a month now. It's nice. I wouldn't call it revolutionary, but it's undoubtedly nice. So nice, indeed, that I am looking for another one.
I'd foolishly thought that after the initial rush died down, you'd pretty much be able to get an iPhone without any trouble. And I expected that initial rush to last a day. Maybe two. But no. O2 appear not to have a single iPhone in Edinburgh. Indeed, the closest iPhone they can offer me is in Larne. Which is quite a drive away. Google tells me it's four and a half hours, if I take the ferry from Troon.
If I go for the model that I actually want, then the position changes slightly. There's one in Downpatrick, an extra hour's drive from the ferry.
I don't know whether to be happy that I've got one already, impressed by the technology that allows me to find my nearest phone, impressed by the popularity of the phone or just annoyed that I can't pick one up in my lunch break.