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JG Ballard interview

The Guardian profiled JG Ballard last Saturday. Sounds like he needs to do some dusting and get himself down to Ikea. You’d think a successful author would drive a better car than a Ford Granada. They were rubbish even in the 1980s – a huge tank of a car only good for towing caravans to Devon or Cornwall. I wonder what car JK Rowling drives? She’s probably got something like this.

JG stands for James Graham by the way.

As a housekeeper, however, Ballard, who lives alone, resides in the era before the term “mod con” was invented. A 20-year-old Ford Granada of indistinct hue slumps on the narrow driveway, jammed up against the front entrance. Indoors, the curtains, neither open nor closed, are held in limbo by a giant dehydrated plant that has collapsed on to the table, blocking all but the most determined approach. Lost amid the mini-jungle of its dried-up fronds is a dust-covered Collins Dictionary. Ballard’s electrical fixtures would interest the curator of the Design Museum. On a cold day, the rooms are warmed by small heaters positioned in the middle of the floor. The sleek stylist of western consumerism never got round to installing central heating.

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