IT IS THREE and a half weeks since I saw and, more importantly, heard singer, songwriter, musician, author and performance artist Amanda Palmer in the slightly unlikely setting of Bexhill on Sea.
OKAY, I ADMIT IT, I have a problem with copy generated by AI chatbots. That’s hardly surprising, you might think, after all I’m a human who has written for a living for more than half a century. But, to be clear, I’m not in fear of my livelihood - it’s just that chatbot copy is so often very badly done.
THE WOMAN in the seat in front of us on the bus we had never intended to take was Asian - perhaps Filipina - middle-aged and dressed like a fashion buyer. She spoke softly in perfect Italian into her smart phone, which she charged from a USB port in the roof of the coach. At one point, she caught my eye and smiled.