Thank heavens, as the crap jingle used to go, for magazines. My pathological fear of being even momentarily bored is such that I'll frequently pick up any old crap just to avoid finding myself at a loose end on Underground journeys. When Xoc and I lived apart and every other weekend was spent commuting between London and Edinburgh, the need was even greater.
Subscriptions: the British Medical Journal and the British Journal of Psychiatry. The latter, in particular, can be terribly dry, and has often remained in its wrapper. I've taken to skimreading the online versions at work, though.
Buy daily: the Guardian.
Buy weekly: Time Out, The New Statesman; used to buy Heat religiously (when it first came out, it was superb). The Sunday supplements: Observer and Sunday Times.
Weekly freebies: the 'gaypers' - The Pink Paper, QX, Boyz.
Buy monthly: Attitude and Gay Times, the latter more out of old-skool loyalty than anything else, really; a whole loooad of male fashion mags, although I don't automatically pick 'em up the way I used to (still look forward to the doorstop fashion specials); go through phases of buying Elle Decoration and other interiors glossies (will probably do this more regularly once we've got our own flat again).
Pervery: occasional Skin Twos (although I now flick through it in Borders first, to assess the fetishblokes:women ratio); I went through a phase of buying motorbike mags (which did more for me than the intentionally fetish stuff...) and know a ridiculous amount of two-wheeled trivia for someone who's never owned a bike; occasional Dive magazines, partly for the Men In Rubber! element, but also a half-hearted interest in One Day, Getting Back Into Scuba.
Occasional: all sorts of stuff; I'll buy virtually anything once; particularly shallow tendency to impulse-buy film mags based on whoever's on the front.
Fallen by the wayside: NME (years ago), The Face, The List (because, er, I don't live in Edinburgh any more), Fetish Times, 2000AD (just went off it), Judge Dredd the Megazine (ditto), Q (which means, scarily, I'm not reading any regular music mag), Comic Review (got bored with it) and all the late-80s/early-90s comics magazines that quietly (or not so quietly) folded. |