pumpkinstrokemarrow

But the Grauniad made the good point that instructing the DPP to write some guidelines is not a very good way to make the law, if pragmatic at the present juncture. In this country it is the function of the Houses of Parliament, so ably assisted by the European Court of Human Rights, to make laws. The job of the DPP is to apply them, not to make them. If you get the DPP to make law in this field, why not others? Where would it all stop? But I suppose, given the snail's pace at which legislation quite properly moves, a sensible interim measure.

Two lady snippets today. First, I was standing behind a lady in the queue at the baker. Shape, dress and back of the neck said thirty something. Then I noticed her ankles, the tone of which did not go with the tone of the back of her neck. Then I noticed that the roots of her thick dark hair were close to white. Then she turned slightly and she was revealed to be nearer fifty than thirty. At least that was the impression left by the mixed messages. Not a mixture I particularly care for. Second, I was buying the Saturday Grauniad in what used to be our local spar, now anonymous. A saturag which contains rather more news than the Saturday DT and rather less supplements. In the background, ringing voice of small lady: why are you buying beer Mummy? Voice of older lady: because Daddy asked me to. Voice of small lady: why does Daddy drink beer all the time Mummy? Wry smiles light up the faces of the queue. No secrets safe with children of a certain age.

Back at the back garden, and remembering the splendid flowers at the Hampton Court flower show, pleased to find that we have mysteriously acquired a really beautiful gladiolus from somewhere. Not terribly big and the plant itself a bit ragged, but with absolutely super pastel pink flowers. Not too flashy and the flowers not too crowded on the stems. Wonderful things. So in ones and twos we can cut it, even if we can't manage the hundreds need to cut a splash at Hampton Court. The other natural event was a middle sized spider's web (of the wheel variety) hanging outside the kitchen window, about three feet out and six feet up. Highlighted by the droplets of rain it had captured and with a very curled up spider at the centre. But can't work out what it is hanging off. Eyes not up to finding the guy ropes in today's rather dull light.

Continuing to get on well with the Dickens' biography by C. Hibbert (see 29 July) and finishing post now in sight. Clearly rather a strange bird who, I think, in later life, ran to two households in quite close proximity, allowing him to shuttle between them in comfort. This book, about the first of half of his life, suggest streaks of cruelty, mania and exhibitionism in his make-up. Also bursting with energy. Maybe all things which you need if you are going to make the grade in the literary jungle. And I cannot think of anyone famous who is reported as being lazy, maybe barring the odd musician. I can recall hearing of a pianist so gifted that he hardly had to bother with practise. Just flipped the pages of what he had to do in the taxi on the way to the concert hall. Him excepted, I think you have to have pots of energy to make it up the greasy pole. A necessary but not sufficient condition. But Dickens was also very fond of his children and they all had great fun together. At least so far. So not all bad. I must be getting a taste for literary biography, something which I have only been reading at all in the last five years or so. Earlier view being that such biography was a parasitic business. The proper thing to do was to read the book, not the book about the book.