Eleanor (my old boss's wife) was rattling a tin for the Samaritans outside Sainsbury's yesterday morning. Most people from one's past slide away on whatever current is carrying them and one never sees them again, but Graham and Eleanor we keep bumping into by accident- even though they live in another town. I feel these pleasant, inconsequential meetings ought to amount to something- ought to signify some deep, karmic connection- but I don't see how they do.
I haven't got the hang of this government yet. Cameron comports himself with dignity on the world stage and is taking our troops out of Sangin (which I'm pleased about). As for the policy of cutting government expenditure to the bone, I understand that smarter economists than George Osbourne think this is entirely the wrong way of doing things. I have no subtlety in these matters, but persecuting and harrassing the unemployed (and barely employable) at a time when you're turning thousands, even millions out onto the streets seems akin to piling up gunpowder kegs, climbing to the top and then lighting a cigarette. Later this year I expect there to be an almighty whoomph- and I'm sticking to my prediction that the coalition won't survive it.