We were up bright and early this morning and had travelled all the way down the hill to Uncle Archie's before either of us had a clue what was going on. We've been in something of a bubble all weekend, opting to listen to ELO on our long car journeys rather than Radio 4. I've subsequently only just found out about the Shoreham plane crash. I initially assumed it had happened in Shoreham, Kent, but the discovery that it was Shoreham By Sea sent me into a tizzy, ringing round my mates from Brighton and Lewes. They all appear to be okay, but many are waiting to hear if anyone they knew was caught up in it. Terrifying...
It's a very strange experience to read a three-day old news story for the first time. The headlines in the paper sitting on my table in the greasy spoon at lunchtime were all very specific: "brave Nan survives fire ball..." "Pilot of plane in intensive care." None gave me any sense of the overall story or what had actually happened. Until I got back to the office and talked to Cat about it, I had no idea that anyone had actually been killed.
That, coupled with the news that the ISIS turds had destroyed an important archeological site, made me wonder whether it's actually worth coming back to the real world after a sojourn in the magic of the Midlands. Quite how anything ISIS do can be justified by God or a religious leader I've no idea. Quite why they think what they do is anything but counter-productive I've no idea either. Kill 'em and bury them in bacon... That'll rain on their parade!
And talking of rain... What on earth is going on with the weather today? It's blinkin' miserable. It's a horrid, horrid day all round and I need to bury myself in blankets!