May the force be with you

Esther is no longer estherhazy. She's officially rejected the name - no longer is she a Le Carré extra.. To be fair she leaned the elan of a Hungarian spy given her predilection for walking into inanimate objects (hours ago she walked into a lamp post when millions wouldn't) and general lack of moral turpitude. 

She remains delightful in a random way. Lamp posts, door ways, kerb stones all become places of performance for Esther when for the rest of us they remain quotidian parts of the topography of modern life. She walks into them, falls over them, misses them, cartwheels off them in the blink of an eye and for the most part comes up smelling of roses and in the other parts she comes up blaming you for something you said give hours previously for her misfortune. Indeed, her sense of victimhood is a worry. She has an Etonian sense of exceptionalism. She spills her cereal - not her fault. She doesn't do her teeth, not her fault. She shouts at her sister not her fault. It's all very traumatic. But blame is not for her. Which from the outside can be like a slow motion car crash.

Oh well. She does in many respects feel delightful. And given the general direction of the world her preternatural obliterating of the moral compass should stand her well. I can happily imagine her as mercurial dictator of the post climate world. Autumn in the season of esther-arch.

And having just had a lesson in RE - she came home and declared she was Queen of the Jews. Oh bugger. I blame the parents.