Tragedies and Happiness

Up to Dorking today - first time since Monday. I heard on the radio as I was driving in that Natashia Richardson, daughter of Vanessa Redgrave and wife of Liam Neeson, had died following a fall during a beginner's skiing lesson in Canada. She was just 45. A devastating blow to the family. Today also saw the verdict and sentencing of Josef Fritzel, the Austrian father who imprisoned his daughter and children by her in a cellar under his house. An absolutely bizarre case and such evil! He was found guilty after he had changed his plea to guilty on all counts and sentenced to life in a psychiatric establishment. I spent the day in the office attending to a number of matters and received an opinion from our counsel on the Madoff problems. A new employment tribunal case also arrived on my desk in the afternoon. I had seen the case before but didn't know that the individual had been dismissed. It looks like a difficult case and will require some considerable time and work to draft a defence within the next 28 days. I have a meeting in Salisbury tomorrow to discuss it further. The tribunal will be heard in Croydon - not my favourite tribunal centre but a frequent one. I arrived back home just before 8 p.m. - in time for our house group. Tonight we reviewed The Pursuit of Happyness. We discussed a number of issues arising out of it and inspired by it - especially the question of what happiness is and whether the current financial crisis will make people re-evaluate their lives and what really does make people happy. Perhaps money will not be seen as the most important thing in creating happiness. Sara and I were reminded of Danny Abse's play on Radio 4 yesterday in which he described the feeling of loss when his wife was killed in a car accident on their way back to Ogmore (incidentally where I stood for Parliament in 1987) from Porthcawl. Klynn stayed behind for his usual glass of whisky (only one tonight, Susan, honestly!). I described my strange dream of last night in which I met Harry Seacombe in Grimsby Old Market Place by the old Corn Exchange (now both demolished) and gave him and others (indistinguishable) a lift up to Old Clee. Stopping off to see Mum at the house in Carr Lane I was greeted by Dad who offered me a cup of tea and said that Mum was not there yet but to come in. We debated on its meaning but concluded that dreams are often just a muddle of past memories.