As close as any mortal

All last week I was typing little bits that never got published. Reading them back, the only bit I want to keep is the following, written on 14 November:

Ponce Charles is 60 today. The Daily Telegraph has a piece on the front page proclaiming that more people want Charles to become king than William. A poll in the Guardian is saying exactly the opposite I noticed. Charles has of course always been somewhat controversial. He's divorced of course, though he clearly prefers to be thought of as a widower. I don't think the public care much that he is divorced, though it is hard to forgive him for the way he treated his wife. He's also married to a divorced woman. I think the public would be willing to ignore the issue of his wife being a divorcee also, if it wasn't for the fact that she looks like a horse. I feel slightly sorry for Camilla. Diana was a hard act to follow, and she was nothing like a horse, quite beautiful in fact.

Charles is also famous for saying and doing stupid and controversial things. He is rumoured to sow crops according to the phases of the moon, and once recommended a coffee enema for cancer sufferers. He's an advocate of homoeopathy, which has been so often debunked it's becoming embarrassing, and he makes frequent and prolonged private visits to a weird Greek Orthodox monastery which doesn't allow women or even female animals to enter.

In addition to the fact that he is simply controversial, he is now 60, and people are asking if he's too old to become king.

***

OK, on to something different. I made roast beef yesterday with Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes. I was particularly proud of the Yorkshire puddings which rose from the muffin tin as if reaching for heaven itself, and when the tin was overturned, they fell gracefully to the waiting plate with no hint of cohesion. Of course, making Yorkshire pudding is a black art, and perfection is unattainable, but I came as close as any mortal can hope to come yesterday evening.



I've borrowed Moby Dick from the library. I've never read it before, and I feel I should. There has been no proper library in Swindon in all the time I have lived there. But last week, a new building opened and it's completely impressive. Everything is automated. Machines eat your book when you return them. Lasers read your card when take books out. There are no real people, just robots. I'll keep you updated on Moby Dick.

Finally, and this is either hysterical or frightening, I can't decide which, the Chancellor Alistair Darling has accused the Shadow Chancellor George Osbourne of "talking down the pound". This is all because George Osbourne said that borrowing huge amounts of money and promising tax cuts could cause a run on sterling. A couple of points to think about:

1. Sterling has been in free-fall for the past month. It lost 25% against the US$ before Osbourne opened his mouth.

2. Mr. Darling, are you honestly suggesting that the world markets are hanging on the Shadow Chancellor's every word to gauge the health of sterling? If so, why are they listening to him and not you?