A few random and entirely unconnected thoughts.

Top banana: Jonathan Coulton has sold out his London gig on Thursday night.

“If you don’t make to this one I’ll be back soon. Apparently there’s an audience over there. Who knew?“

The full judgment in the McCartney-Mills divorce is fascinating for the glimpse it gives into the lives of phenomenally wealthy people.  I have read it all unlike, I suspect, most of the “commentators” whoring themselves around the meeja today.  Mr Justice Bennett’s ruling is not only well reasoned and well written, he bent over backwards to be seen to be fair to both parties and achieved his aim with adroitness.

I don’t intend to rake over the ashes of this ghastly spectacle but I was impressed by the fact that though Bennett J pointed out some of Ms. Mills’ more lavish financial demands:

“She claims… £30,000 p.a. for equestrian activities (she no longer rides), £39,000 p.a. for wine (she does not drink alcohol)…”

even he felt it unnecessary to comment on one particular assertion:

“She says she helped him write songs.”

I’ve also caught up today with a couple of Joe Queenan’s recent The Vinyl Word columns for The Guardian, which are rarely less than excellent reads.  I loved one passage in his recent column about Otis Redding:

“Dock of the Bay, one of the only pop tunes of the 60s that has a significant whistling component, was co-written by Steve Cropper, one of the few living legends whose legend derives from something other than having been around for a long time.  Lead guitarist with the equally admired Booker T & The M-Gs, Cropper wrote Dock of the Bay with Redding, Knock on Wood with Eddie Floyd, and In the Midnight Hour with Wilson Pickett.  He is often identified as one of the greatest living guitarists, raising the question: if Steve Cropper is such a fabulous songwriter and one of the greatest living guitarists, how come Lenny Kravitz has all the money?”

Finally, how genuinely very sad it is to learn of Anthony Minghella’s sudden death at the terribly early age of 54.

I greatly liked David Puttnam’s tribute:

“He started as a writer, he was not a stylist as a director. He saw himself as a storyteller and his films were very well told, beautifully made and beautifully acted.”

One of the best writer-directors has gone and we just don’t have enough to lose a talent like Minghella’s so young.  My respects to his wife and children.

There are times when traditional hostilities should be put temporarily aside; this is such a time, as Peter Bradshaw’s conclusion deserves to be highlighted:

“With his passing, cultural life in this country has descended one or two IQ points.”

Spot on.