As I write this sentence it is 8.35am, and the Big Bang experiment deep beneath the Swiss-French border has begun. So far so good – I’m still here writing. And as far as I can ascertain the Earth is not in a black hole.
It’s 8.38am, and I note that the Daily Mirror has taken the story seriously. While scientists try to find the so-called "God particle" that some theorists believe gives matter its mass, and thus discover how the universe was created, the Mirror’s team of highly paid journalists has treated us to a huge front page picture and story about Victoria Beckham’s new pixie haircut. The wankers.
It is 8.45am, and we are still here. And I’ve just remembered something I should have put in yesterday’s entry. While Mrs N and I, and our lovely hosts, were perusing the quaint shops of Rothesay on the Isle of Bute, I spotted in a beyond-quaint menswear shop a pair of old-fashioned slippers with the notice attached SLIPPERS FOR FEET. (There's a special prize for the first person to give me a credible answer to what else the islanders do with their slippers.)
It’s 8.55am and the experiment is well underway. And I am beginning to wonder how the England football team will fare in Croatia tonight. Another disaster, or will national pride at last overcome a lack of confidence that at times looks more like inertia?
It’s 9.00am, and all is quiet.
SHIT! WHAT’S THAT!? SOUNDED LIKE A F……
9.05am. No panic, folks. It was just Mrs N dropping a tray of cutlery.
It’s no good – my nerves won’t take any more. I’m uploading this while I can. See you tomorrow. Hopefully.
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