The most important thing is that he will have complete editorial freedom to portray the workings of the

The most important thing is that he will have complete editorial freedom to portray the workings of the Independent on Sunday, blinking or not. And we’re offering him the chance to keep you, the readers, informed with his own (written) view through the year on work in progress Watch this space.. It’s not exactly a rollicking good read; it’s not precisely a page-turner either. The plot won’t keep you hooked and the characters may seem a tad one-dimensional. It’s not exactly a rollicking good read; it’s not precisely a page-turner either. The plot won’t keep you hooked and the characters may seem a tad one-dimensional.
But that’s hardly surprising, because the author Anne Lydiat has “written” a book with no words or, for that matter, pictures With nothing, in fact, but one hundred blank, white pages.

It costs £9.99 and it even has an ISBN number, which means major libraries must stock it. Best of all, it’s selling like hot cakes and there are only 70 left.For the money you get a front cover with its title Lost For Words on it, and on the inside of the dust jacket a quote from a philosopher Maurice Blanchot, which reads: “About this book I have promised myself to say nothing.”Ms Lydiat, a Nottingham Trent University art lecturer, says Lost For Words should be kept on the bookshelves and “read” when peace and quiet are sought. She was inspired by stays in a series of Belgian convents where talking is banned “I wanted a book that dealt with silent spaces You open it and there’s nothing to read. But maybe that nothing is something.”At Silver Moon Women’s Bookshop in London’s Charing Cross Road yesterday, Lost For Words had sold out.

Ms Lydiat was delighted with its success and the interest shown in it by the Independent on Sunday But she didn’t want her photograph taken. “You couldn’t just put a blank space where my picture ought to go?” she pleaded, “That would mean so much more.”. If being overweight and follicularly challenged is a crime, half the occupants of the marina at this exclusive Costa del Sol resort deserve to be locked up. But last week the tabloid vigilantes of Fleet Street were chasing one particular hairless tub of lard among the luxury yachts. If being overweight and follicularly challenged is a crime, half the occupants of the marina at this exclusive Costa del Sol resort deserve to be locked up. But last week the tabloid vigilantes of Fleet Street were chasing one particular hairless tub of lard among the luxury yachts.
Their quarry was Paul Gadd, aka Gary Glitter, one-time popular musician and convicted possessor of child pornography, or, as the Sun put it on Tuesday when it revealed that the perpetrator of such songs as “My Gang” had sailed his 33ft boat into Sotogrande seven weeks ago, “a fat, bald, evil pervert in paradise”.Clearly the sin would have been less if he had been slim and well-coiffured, but Glitter’s four-month jail sentence for downloading internet porn means you can say what you like about him. That, and his dramatically changed appearance since he left prison in January, meant other red-tops were soon joining in.The singer – sorry, “twisted glam rocker” – had incautiously moored his £45,000 yacht, Voyageur, right beneath the windows of the Hotel Club Maritimo, allowing the Sun to snap him without even leaving their room.

The Daily Mail bought the pictures, and rehashed the whole story in only slightly more restrained form. Both papers, for example, used a photograph in which the singer’s hand was just touching the shoulder of a blonde woman well over the age of consent. According to the Mail, the “fallen star” was simply chatting to her, but in the Sun the caption read: “Oily Gary Glitter reaches to paw a woman who invited him for cocktails on her yacht.”As the shenanigans continued, with Gary weaving around the yacht harbour and out to sea in his inflatable dinghy in an unsuccessful attempt to shake off his watchers, guards from the private security company which looks after Sotogrande were telling the swell- ing hack pack to avoid upsetting residents. The resort, the home of the legendary Valderrama golf course, has always considered itself a cut above the rest of the Costa del Sol, and the sight of the unspeakable in pursuit of the unappetising had them irritated and confused.”If you want movie stars, gangsters and Saudi princes, you need to go to Marbella,” said one bemused resident who, like almost everyone else, had never heard of Gary Glitter Attempts to explain did not help much “It’s no good coming here if you’re a paedophile,” he said “Nearly everybody is over 65. You might see some grandchildren about during the school holidays.”While the Sun kept up the pressure, checking girlie bars between Marbella and Gibraltar for sightings of the singer, Bruce Don, the first English president of the Sotogrande Property Owners’ Association, was describing the sort of person the resort’s founders had in mind when they began development in the 1960s.