The Uncanny Summer Special

Our isolation from our fellows lays us open to the pre packaged memories of the web. This fake nostalgia is, if you like, the inverse of the 15 minutes of fame we experience when someone likes one of our own intimate memories that we've publicized to the multitude. We weep incontinently when we see adverts for toilet paper featuring labrador puppies when we've never even owned a dog. And no stalge is equally responsible for the precipitate rise in four inch men's underwear sizes. Only those impossible destinies are truly sustainable. It's an uncanny feeling, isn't it, to realize that the green, green grass of home is really astraturf and that mary