I love David Mitchell and David Mitchell. If you asked me to choose between David Mitchell and David Mitchell, I wouldn’t be able to.

David Mitchell is my font of all wisdom (or is that fount?). On QI or Would I Lie to You, or in his Soapbox rants, he puts so much sense in his nonsense.

Everyone laughed on Would I Lie to You when he said it, but I have long lived by his fashion advice: ‘My appearance should be in no way noteworthy, but then again, not so un-noteworthy as to be in itself noteworthy.’

Who can resist a man who helps you stay sane in the maelstrom of fashion and shopping choices, and also makes you laugh?

But I also love David Mitchell. For some of the same reasons, and of course because he is a writer who takes my breath away.

There is some link here to my post last week, as this David Mitchell has a long association with Japan and he came to mind when I was reading Junichiro Tanizaki. ‘number9dream’, the story of Eiji Miyake trying to find his father and ‘The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet’ set in 18th century Nagasaki, standout in this respect. His 2004 novel, ‘Cloud Atlas’ stands out in a crowded field of standouts. I would follow him even unto twitter where his latest novel started as a short story, tweet by 140 character tweet.

What are the odds that of all the men in the world, I adore two with the same name? I’m sure someone would be able to calculate that out for me (men in the world, David Mitchells in the world, probability and the science of the fickle heart). I’d rather stay poetic though and call it fate.

Just don’t ask me to pick one and only one.

The besotted woman in the image is not me! She is The Love of the Humming Bird, by Manuel Ocaranza.

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