Some mornings I wake up, read the news, and experience an intense urge to bolt the doors, board up the windows, go back to bed and pull the covers up over my head.
At this stage, who knows what comes next?
If the world were a car, I’d wonder whether the driver was asleep at the wheel, foot jammed firmly on the accelerator, with a gleeful toddler sitting on their lap careering the thing wildly down a potholed road crying, “broom, broom!”
More . . .