This just happened: It’s a warm and sunny morning in London, and I just spent an hour walking the dog in Primrose Hill. We threw and chased the ball, we lay around and stared at the sky, we played with a greyhound and one of us sniffed his butt. The breeze carried the delicious smell of cut grass, blossom and creosote. Everything was wonderful.
As we neared home, I overheard a couple of seconds of TV News through an open window. The exact words were, ‘And finally – preparing for a nuclear apocalypse.’