‘Thus I refute Bishop Berkeley,’ said my husband, multitasking by kicking the stone and slightly misquoting Samuel Johnson at the same time. It was his (my husband’s) notion of a little joke. Dr Johnson had demonstrated with his own kick the falsehood of thinking that all things are merely ideal, not material. The stone my husband kicked was a milestone outside the Royal Geographical Society in Kensington Gore. It said ‘To Hounslow 9 miles’ and ‘To London (Hyde Park Corner) 1 mile’. Helpfully, a manicule pointed out which way was which. I’m still unsure where Bishop Berkeley comes into this, but milestones have been everywhere recently, all of them grim. Everyone in the papers and on the television called Britain’s 100,000th Covid death a grim milestone. Mostly it is a pious cliché, just as people write ‘the sad death of her husband’.
The Times managed to make it ‘grim, grim, milestone’ and, true to form, the Independent applied the cliché to a minority preoccupation: ‘a grim milestone in the long history of tensions surrounding the political status of Quebec.’
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