In full pursuit of the unspeakable

I've never been good at popular culture. Maggie has a penchant for those gossip magazines; the sort that mix the "Mother's anguish for teenage son" with how Rihanna had taken to carrying a turnip around as a talisman. I can never fathom how she remembers all the names let alone recognises the same person in photos that look as alike as chalk and cheese to me. A few years ago we went to a music festival in Benicassim. As with all festivals I'd gone primarily to sample the vegetable noodles. I did have a passing interest in the music with the thought of seeing old timers before they died and newcomers who may one day be famous. The Ting Tings and Leonard Cohen as I remember. As we wandered around the site we came across some bloke playing Flamenco music on one of the stages. It was good. The crowd was sizeable but there was none of that fighting crush you get with the headline acts so we stayed a while. The singer turned out to be Enrique Morente. I was impresse...