Jumping Vlad Flash

When I was nine or ten years old, at school, I vividly remember ending a game of chess that I felt I should not be losing, by tipping up the board, I can understand why there are suddenly leaks appearing in the marine sections of Nordstream I and II. Fortunately, at that time, I was below the legal minimum age to buy nuclear weapons. 

The Wand, the Hat and the Hand Grenade

One of the universals of the interviews with the great, good or utterly insignificant appears to be that they all remember when they met Her Maj. I do not. I'm pretty certain we both attended the same flower show on at least one occasion, and I may have glimpsed a small but regal lady being mobbed by the adoring public, but it's not an image I can draw on with any certainty. It's not that I'm generally forgetful, I met her daughter, in a coffee shop, and I thought: "Why the long face?" and felt ashamed of that.

But the television is on. I've mild Covid symptoms, so I'm not about to impose my presence on the rest of the world. Talking heads, marching bands. I have time to reflect, and to wonder.

I wonder if BSL is really so full of downwards gestures, or whether it's just the topic, for example. I wonder what will be on the telly tomorrow.