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The jacket reminded her of Nelson and, in some strange way, made her feel braver.

The Crossing Places, Elly Griffiths

It’s January and the sense of a new start, together with tantalising offers of sales from the shops, tempts many of us to review our wardrobes. I struggle with buying clothes: faced with what seems like endless rails of garments, I find it hard to discriminate; trying items on is an ordeal wherein I often feel the problem lies with the figure underneath, not the clothing. I have to be in a particularly positive frame of mind (immediately after a haircut is a good time), dart into the shops, look briskly and purposefully while the mental energy persists and then make a quick exit as soon as my mood starts to decline. Shopping trips are often brief skirmishes in an ongoing, inexplicable war. The small campaign victories can, however, be very precious: those garments which ‘work’ and become loved.  They are reached for from the wardrobe as trusted old friends and their wearing never fails to lift the spirits.
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The most exciting television this weekend was not Line of Duty, but a moment in Doctor Who.  An episode called Thin Ice, set in 1814 London at the time of the Thames Ice Fair, and the moment comes as the Doctor confrons Lord Sutcliffe, who has developed an unorthodox bio fuel supply chain – including a captive alien – to ensure that his mills are powered and his business prospers:

Sutcliffe: I made the most of the situation.

Doctor:  What makes you so sure that your life is worth more than those people out on the ice? Is it the money? Is it the accident of birth that puts you inside the big fancy house?”

Sutcliffe: I help move this country forward; I more this empire forward

Doctor:  Human progress isn’t measured by industry. It’s measured by the value you put on a life.  An unimportant life.  A life without privilege.  The boy who died on the river, that boy’s value is your value. 

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