Monday

My daughter’s second wedding was a wonderful, emotional day. A day when two families became one, but also a day of stepping back and letting go. There were tears. Not least when the rain relented and a handful of us gathered under an octagonal pergola covered in flowers, which our son Robbie and his friend had made, to witness Anna and Robert read their vows, which they had written for each other. Robbie also read out Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116 – “Let me not to the marriage of true minds / Admit impediment” – which my wife and I had read at our wedding 33 years ago.

It’s a sonnet with family history: in 1914 my grandfather, a German military attache in London, had been due to marry my grandmother but the start of the first world war in August put paid to that as he was recalled to Germany. Two years later, with the war showing no sign of ending, my grandfather wrote a letter from just behind the frontline, saying the situation was impossible and that he was releasing her from her engagement vows. Somehow the letter got through and, to escape the censors, my grandmother sent a three-word reply: “Shakespeare Sonnet 116.”

My grandfather survived the war and in 1919 my grandmother travelled alone to The Hague – her family couldn’t forgive her for falling in love with a German – where they got married in front of a handful of friends. I’d like to think they would have approved of Anna and Robert’s wedding. I’d also like to think Anna and Robert will have the sonnet read again at their third wedding in the US next year for all those who missed the first two.

Tuesday

Throwaway Phil embraces austerity-lite to save his skin | John Crace Read more

The real drama of the budget seldom takes place on the day itself. Especially not when it’s delivered by a man with a total absence of charisma. Whoever told Philip Hammond he was one of life’s natural raconteurs and that a few toilet gags would go down a storm has a lot to answer for. But it’s not just the chancellor who detracts from the occasion, it’s also the other 649 MPs, because none of them really understand the implications of the budget as it’s being read out and so have no idea if it’s credible or not. All they can do is go by the headlines and deliver a few imperfect soundbites in response. That’s why I always make a point of going to the lunchtime briefing given by the Institute for Fiscal Studies the following day. Their economists have invariably spent the whole night crunching the numbers and going through the small print in the red book – something not even Hammond gets round to – and their verdict is seldom pretty.

As someone who has a fair amount of nerd-like tendencies myself, there’s something very satisfying about the geeks getting their revenge on the politicians. This year’s budget held up better than some, but was still reckoned to be a huge gamble with the public finances. The chancellor had basically been gifted £13bn thanks to a forecast revision by the Office for Budget Responsibility and spent the lot. Even though there was every chance the forecast would be revised down again next year. As for Brexit, there was no plan other than to hope for the best. Fiscal Phil had become Throwaway Phil.

Wednesday

The Guardian’s political team in Westminster shares an office with Bloomberg’s political editor, Rob Hutton. Not only is Rob extremely good company (he’s written a great book, Agent Jack, about the intelligence services’ infiltration of Nazi collaborators in the UK during the second world war), he also offers fresh ways of rating the effectiveness of the government. At this point the Brexit secretary, Dominic Raab, should look away. At precisely the moment Raab’s letter to the Brexit select committee suggesting that a final deal would be agreed within three weeks was published, the pound rose by 0.5% against the dollar. A huge surge in financial terms. The downside was that within 40 minutes the pound was back where it had been.

In other words, Raab’s credibility with the financial markets was roughly zero. The money men had taken 30 minutes to judge the chances of his analysis of the situation being even remotely accurate and had delivered their verdict. Sure enough, the Brexit department was forced to send out a humiliating press release three hours later saying Dom had never meant to suggest a deal could be achieved in three weeks. Curiously, the markets also seem to have little faith in Theresa May. Though for different reasons. The pound rose against the dollar when it was reported overnight that a Brexit deal on financial services was imminent. And remained up even when the prime minister denied it. Figure that one out.

Thursday

Ever since my mother gave me the Ladybird book on Captain Scott when I was about seven, I’ve been obsessed by polar exploration. Over the years I must have read at least 10 biographies of Scott (the best by some distance is Roland Huntford’s Scott and Amundsen), along with countless others about Ernest Shackleton, Fridtjof Nansen, Frederick Cook, Robert Peary and Wally Herbert. Even though I know I wouldn’t survive a day there – I’m such a townie, I still only really feel safe when I’m back inside the M25 – there’s something about the intense cold and the desolation that I find immensely compelling and I long to understand the mindset of those who choose to spend months on end in complete darkness at the poles.

Still, it’s probably best for everyone’s sake if I continue to stay away. It’s just been reported that a Russian scientist in the Antarctic has been charged with attempted murder after stabbing a colleague in the heart. According to unsubstantiated claims, what finally tipped the scientist over the edge after four years of cohabitation was that his erstwhile friend kept telling him the endings of every book he started reading. Imagine what would have happened to me if he had discovered I wrote the digested read.

Friday

David Cameron wants to return to politics. It’s a shame he has so little to offer | Owen Jones Read more

The Sun reports that David Cameron has told friends he is “bored shitless” and fancies a return to frontline politics as foreign secretary. It can’t be easy having to walk across the garden to your £25,000 shed to try to find a way of writing your memoirs – for which you have received an £800,000 advance – in a way that doesn’t make you sound like someone who completely screwed over the country and left everyone else to clear up the mess, but even so the sense of entitlement is breathtaking.

Let’s look at the things Bored Dave doesn’t want to do. He doesn’t want to volunteer to work at a foodbank or a homeless shelter so he can meet all those people whose lives he helped make so miserable. Nor does Bored Dave want to use his writer’s block skills to apply for the job of editor of Waitrose magazine, for which there is now a vacancy.

Bored Dave doesn’t even want to go through the hassle of becoming an ordinary backbench MP. There again, the interview might prove tricky. “So tell us, Bored Dave, what qualities you could bring as Conservative MP.” “Well,” replies Bored Dave. “I’m naturally lazy, I’ve destroyed both the Tory party and the country and I’m keen to see what more damage I can do.” But no. Bored Dave wants to be parachuted in above every other MP and take up one of the great offices of state. There’s only one person other than Bored Dave who could possibly think this is a good idea and that is Boris Johnson. Because then Boris will only be remembered as the second worst foreign secretary in history.

Digested week, digested: The not the end of austerity budget.