I’m not a great magazine reader, apart from Standpoint Magazine and The Critic. It’s an absolute joy to read so many beautifully crafted articles, even if afterwards I can’t resist firing up the old laptop to ‘pen’ a letter to the editor from Mrs Angry of Buckinghamshire.
Less erudite magazines I normally don’t have time for / I don’t indulge in / how on earth do I end this sentence without a preposition? The exception is when I’m having my hair coloured and have to wait 45 minutes while the chemicals do their damnedest. This necessary hiatus in my life is filled with flicks through the likes of Homes and Gardens, and I really appreciate page-after-page of stunning architecture, interior design, landscapes, gardens and plates of food. I might read part of the occasional article, and they do the job that was intended. They’re fine. I couldn’t do any better. I end the session at my hairdressers relaxed, in good humour, and with a long shopping list of ‘indispensables’ for the home and garden, thanks to … Homes and Gardens.
On the other hand, some magazines are simply dreadful. For some reason, on Friday morning I picked up a copy of the Waitrose & Partners Food Illustrated Issue. I spent most of that evening complaining to Hubby how bad it was. It was so bad, I couldn’t put it down! Maybe this was their clever psychology, because I can’t think of any other reason to publish it.
So why was it so bad? The first alarm bell rang on page 4 when the magazine staff were introduced. There was a Chief sub editor, a Deputy chief/acting chief sub editor, an Acting deputy chief sub editor and a Sub-editor. I’ve just read this again – surely they had intended it to be a joke?
Even if it was a joke, the illustrations weren’t, despite over-use of the word “witty”. They were predictable, hackneyed and not a patch on Quentin Blake.
Over-fussy illustrations? Cop hold of the verbage! How many adjectives does it take to change a light bulb? Less is more, People! And the pretentiousness: phrases like “air of mid-20th century chic” (since when were the 1950s “chic”?), and “this salad is a game-changer”. (It’s a salad – Get over it!)
It gets worse. Why oh why would anyone want to write, or read, “A love letter to Princes Corned Beef”? I’ll be generous for a second – a truly skilled writer like Rod Liddle, or even me 😊, could probably pen something reasonably witty, and nothing like, “The heart wants what it wants…in my case, that’s this flavourful underdog of the tinned food aisle.” Yeuk.
If that doesn’t get your pulse racing, and of course it won’t, how about a flow chart to “Find Your Dream Sandwich”. One solution is apparently a “BBQ Tofu Roll”. If that’s a solution then the problem must be worse than the coronavirus.
Unfortunately, I haven’t finished yet. The final article “My Cup Of Tea” with Emma Bridgwater, she behind the polkadot crocks amongst others, begins: “I start the day with a cup of tea and a biscuit in bed. Then I have coffee and home-made bread.”
Be. Still. My. Beat. Ing. Heart.
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