Frankenstein Placeholder Week, Day 3: Not Yet. Not There.

This lightbulb has been burning for a hundred and thirteen years.

  Right, I've asked my friend Lauren to supply today's placeholder. A bunch of us have just been to see our friend Bex in "A Passage To India" at the Tower Theatre, which I loved, and which reminded me how just much India and Pakistan used to figure in my cultural life when I was a teenager: film after film about the Raj, the works of Salman Rushdie and Hanif Kureishi, there was Madhur Jaffrey, Sayeed Jaffrey and Roshan Seth, and Peter Brook's "Mahabharata", whose hypnotic utterances and daft action prancing I would watch on tape again and again, and Milligan and McCarthy's "Rogan Gosh" whose pages I scissored out of my old copies of "Revolver" and stitched together, and Camden, and ideas of God not as a lawgiver but as the thing things have in common, and I've missed it. Anyway, Lauren offered this as a placeholder. Her Gran has just bought a lightbulb from Wilco that promises to live for fifteen years. Her Gran is eighty-six, and determined to outlive it.