pumpkinstrokemarrow

Pleased to see that http://oldradie.blogspot.com/ is still at it. A picture of the same country scene, more or less every day. But, just to be picky, if I was doing it I think I would organise it with more snaps to the page, to get a stronger sense of change. One might also think about whether it ought always to be at the same time of day - GMT that is, none of this summer time business.

Seem to be dreaming more with BH on detached duty in Devon. So this morning, a dream about how terribly important I was when I was in the world of work. A dream, which I think I have had in various guises since I retired. The general idea is that I was past my retirement date but because I was so essential to the business (such as it was) that I kept going in to that fine open plan office in Horseferry Road. I was getting a bit worried that the personnel people thought I had retired but I had meetings stretching into the future in the trusty Filofax. Would I continue to get regular pay rather than retirement pay? Where would it all end? So perhaps the discredited Freud had a point after all when he made the categorical claim that all dreams are driven by a desire to make (subconscious?) wishes come true.

My connection with Filofax must be coming up to fifty years now, the connection having been started, I believe, by my elder brother, always one for gadgets and toys. The present incarnation is a black leather job, about twenty years old. Handy pockets for small amounts of paper. Plastic pockets for business cards - at least business cards for people who print them the proper size, rather than for those who think it is clever or distinguishing to have them some funny size. Well, distinguishing it is, but not in the way intended. Maps of tube and rail networks. Maps of England, Wales and Scotland. Street map of London. Diary. And lots of plain white paper to scribble on, perhaps tear out and give to people. I dare say you can do all this on a mobile phone but I don't think I am going to switch - despite this particular Filofax being a bit big for the pocket. Only fits comfortably into a duffel coat pocket. I have a much cheaper job, red rexine (does this stuff still exist?) covers, used to keep back pages of diary. Started it in case an expenses claim ever backfired and I needed some evidence of what I had been up to; kept up with it ever since. From time to time I actually look at it, as opposed to feeding it new material. So my attachment to the red job is out of all proportion to the use I get out of it. More a talisman than a tool.

Rather annoyed by a rather sniffy peice in the Guardian the other day. Maybe even a leader. There is a lady, mentioned here before, who has multiple sclerosis and who is fighting hard to get some clarification of the law on assisted suicide. How will her partner be placed if he takes her to the clinic in Switzerland? Now, the Guardian's point is that, in practise, English law is quite flexible (this being a good thing, despite our snooty remarks about rather flexible application of the law in certain Latino countries). There is quite a lot of discretion about whether or not to prosecute - which gives room for common sense, public opinion, climate of the times and whathaveyou to kick in - but it is hard for them not to do something if someone appears to be breaking the law in a very public way. So would it not be much better for this lady to keep a low profile, do her thing, and not worry about the very small risk that anyone would be prosecuted afterwards?

Now, in a narrow sense, the Guardian may well be right. But without people who are prepared to make a fight for a point of principle the world would not move on. And the Guardian might even be wrong in the narrow sense. Having a cause might give the lady a bit of helpful structure to her life. But, in the more important, wide sense, the Guardian should be grateful that there are people prepared to put up a fight to change our antiquated and uncivilised laws about suicide and euthanasia and not poke around in the minutiae of the motives or circumstances of those putting up the fight. It is the fight which is important. And as the Catholic Church knows full well, a sacrament is not much tainted by some taint on the celebrant. In techno speak, the property of being tainted is not transitive. And without wishing to impunge this lady in any way, lots of good things have been achieved by bad people for bad reasons. As the proverb says, perhaps rather tastelessly in this particular case, the way to hell is paved with good intentions.

Which reminds me of an anecdote from the heroic days of the Soviet Union, from when they were building huge industrial complexes (not archipeligoes) in the frozen north. Some people went there because they were young communists who believed in the noble cause of industrialising the frozen wilderness. Remembering that in those far off days, before ecology was invented, it was indeed a noble cause. And some people went there because you got double time. According to the anecdote, the believers were a pain. They were always arguing the toss about this or that, rather than getting on with digging the salt out of the frozen hole. The chaps doing it for the money were a much better bet. They were the ones who got the job done. And so the righties among us can clap. Money not morals is the way forward!