Wanda Watt
Wanda Watt, an artful intellectual who lives with her bestie Noah Little, is a free-range ruminator who can stomach only so much. Watt’s real identity is known to the editor.
Articles By This Author
Letters spray – ET, IQ, BEE and EE
When he was a boy, Terence adored E.T., that irresistible little creature from outer space. Unprompted, he would chirp “Eeee Teee,” which was fair enough, and “Home,” which I naturally found endearing. When he solemnly intoned, “I’ll… be… right… here,” I even cherished hopes for his political development. Right here is right on.
Black thoughts on a night to dismember
Seth Allot, dear man, has been staying with us for more than a fortnight. In private, I dub him Professor in Residence, which is false. In public, I call him Professor Emeritus, which is true. Personally, I would like him to stay for as long as he can. I think my Bestie agrees, but, as we say, only Noah knows.
No kind words where force and bluster fail
When I went bed‑wards, Noah was musing. When I awoke, he was still musing. Now he’s at it again. It’s an awful lot of musing. Occasionally he flatters me by calling me his Muse — though never when I’m being catty.
When the Trumpet sounds
Water expert Anthony Turton says our water’s gone from dodgy to dangerous. What’s that doing to us, I wonder? Are microbes sneaking past the brain’s velvet rope and turning us delightfully barmy—mad in the loopy sense, not merely cross?
Noah on the right to litigate
“Open the floodgates on corruption” says Noah, darkly.
Surviving in an institution – a banking one
Dee Positano is staying with us. I am pleased. I like her even though she is a banker. Some bankers can be nice. Would I
Who’s banking on whom?
My cousin Delia is a banker. Some years ago, on a trip to Italy, she met a man named Positano, married him, and took his
One Settler, One Bulletin
I feel unsettled. Besides being unpleasant, this condition is inappropriate for a woman of a certain age. I should be in a state of feeling
Good enough in themselves to be the equal of anything
Noah and I are dining together. This sounds grand, but it really isn’t. Dinner in our house, when tête-à-tête, is really supper: a bowl of
Equality is really pie in the sky
The evening is drawing to a close. The professor is not. I am glad, as I am enjoying myself. Some of my guests, Sean not