Today was my day off. I had to lose part of it to take a funeral this morning, but we made up for it this afternoon by taking our two small children to Medway Council’s Dickens Festival in Rochester. We all had ice creams, Rebekah had a balloon and some rides at the fun-fair.

I didn’t want to turn into a parody of Dickens’ great literary creation Scrooge and so wouldn’t begrudge our kids the great fun they had, but as we walked back to the car we discussed the savage irony: the festival purportedly celebrates Charles Dickens (who lived much of his life in the area), the passionate social reformer who cared greatly about the exploitation of the poor. Just how fitting is it, then, that his name is just the label on a tourist attraction, where the real highest value is not concern for the poor but the desire to make money?