I’ve just finished reading a excerpt from Haruki Murakami‘s book about his obsessive running, and in particular a 100KM “ultramarathon” he completed (it’s taken me a while to get round to, it was in the Observer in July). He’s been one of my favourite authors in recent years, but something has disturbed me about finding out he was into running (a pastime I find incredibly dull).

I now feel the same way that you do when you find out a girl you like is a dog person rather than a cat person, or that someone likes Oasis, or watches Eastenders.

It’s not as bad a discovering someone votes tory tho’.