I was going through some books and I came across this
I was in my second year at Oxford and had imbibed enough institutional cockiness to go up to the dynamic duo of British art at a book signing. I'd been an admirer since I'd seen footage of their living sculpture works on telly when I was still at school. I just thought they were unbelievably funny and interesting and strange. No great insight, I just instinctively liked them. I correctly surmised they would have no problem with a student coming up to them in Blackwells and asking if they would sign something other than their book, as he couldn't afford it. I was doing Plato's Symposium that term, I just opened it at a random page. Don't ask me what the text is saying here, the old Greek is pretty rusty. I might be reading lots later in the year if one of my plans comes off, though.