Minnie’s Musings

Watching The House of Dynamite tanks at roughly negative two as something to watch to settle one’s equilibrium after a long half term. A vivid account of the US response to an imminent threat, it is heart in mouth stuff very well done.

As our world tips ever more on a precipitous axis, I have long had a plan that Best Beloved should go for the girls and I would race to Oxford to get to our son.

A friend – failing in their attempt not to scoff – pointed out that there would be no time to do either.
“I’d rather die trying” muttered I in manner of John Wayne pretending he was at the Alamo (rather than a dusty backlot in Burbank).

Of course one needs to share said plan with Best Beloved, and then refrain from arguing about whether to take M40 or zip along the back roads. Or whether a the train or car is best for a rendezvous with the girls somewhere between central London and our front door.

And let’s not even go near what we do about the cat (likely as I am to observe “She’ll live. She’s got nine live.” Which will invariably precipitate a piercing glare full of accusation that I am inhuman etc etc.

I shall go forth and plant some daffodil bulbs to make myself feel better. That will put off the imminent threat of nuclear annihilation and give me something to look forward to.