I'm really getting into Our Mutual Friend now. Read a brilliant passage last night that I've just got to type out for you. Here goes:
The mature young gentleman is a gentleman of property. He invests his property. He goes in a condescending, amateurish way into the City, attends meetings of Directors, and has to do with traffic in Shares. As is well known to the wise in their generation, traffic in Shares is the one thing to have to do with in this world. Have no antecedents, no established character, no cultivation, no ideas, no manners; have Shares. Have Shares enough to be on Boards of Direction in capital letters, oscillate on mysterious business between London and Paris, and be great. Where does he come from? Shares. What are his tastes? Shares. Has he any principles? Shares. What squeezes him into Parliament? Shares. Perhaps he never of himself achieved success in anything, never originated anything, never produced anything? Sufficient answer to all: Shares. Oh, mighty Shares! To set those blaring images so high, and to cause us smaller vermin, as under the influence of henbane or opium, to cry out, night and day, "Relieve us of our money, scatter it for us, buy us and sell us, ruin us, only, we beseech ye, take rank among the powers of the earth and fatten on us!"
So brilliant, I love that. And sadly, it's still relevant today, almost 150 years later...
Anyway, that's yer highbrow. Here's some lowbrow news. We have persuaded our son to eat vegetables! Not by reward charts or praise, not by threats or firm voices. No, we have totally copped out and are PAYING him to eat them. Yes, he's so desperate to buy some new Lego, we are paying him 1p for every carrot and bit of broccoli and green bean that he eats. It's working, too, don't knock it. We had to cough up nine whole English pence the other day towards the Lego fund. Money can't buy you love, sure, but it can certainly buy you a few vitamins. Hooray for corruptible offspring!
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