Night Thoughts

The traditional thing is to count sheep. Last night I was counting poets laureate. I reckoned I knew them all from Southey on- and I checked this morning and found I did- and that I'd even got them in the right order.

There's a mouse that vists the corner cupboard in the early hours of the morning. It's a noisy beast. We used to keep soap in there and mice love soap.

Inherited Gifts

Judy and I like to argue about whether artistic talent can be inherited. She says it can and I say it can't.

Yesterday I stumbled upon a family tree that supports her position.

John Doyle- Irish cartoonist- begat Richard and Charles Doyle- both of them distinuguished graphic artists- and Charles Doyle begat Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes.

What I'd say to her, if she ever found out about the Doyles, is that instances of artistic gifts manifesting in three generations of the same family are vanishingly rare. Can you think of another? I can't.