I say, I say, I say...

I’ve been a nervous wreck waking up in recent weeks knowing I have to tune in and discover the latest state of play in the Ashes fixtures down under. I honestly feel it has affected my sleep to a certain extent as stirring in the middle of the night during a Test has meant I’ve been immediately bolt upright worrying about Freddie and Harmy and company. This morning was fine though and I’m delighted that the irrepressible ‘Monty’ has lit up a day’s play with a 'five for'. With Australia, who won the toss, dismissed for 244 and England on 51 for the loss of a couple, it is all to play for. The team needs a big partnership or two and, hopefully, a three figure lead. The nerves are building; once again I’m not looking forward to switching on the radio tomorrow morning.

The Coles went to see The Queen tonight at t’Guildhall. It was quietly thought-provoking and, dealing with the events after the death of the saintly Diana, a tangible jog to the old memory. I recall a kind of mass hysteria in 1997 where, if you weren’t overcome, lachrymose and haunted by the passing of, in my humble opinion, a fairly humdrum individual, you felt you ran the risk of being lynched. In many ways it was not this country’s finest moment methinks. It worried me.

I was horrified to read a posting on a Gloucester rugby messageboard today where an individual had chosen to share three jokes about the recent and tragic murder of five sex workers in Ipswich. Young lives, young tragic lives are snuffed out and wasted, the lives of somebody’s daughter, sister, mother and someone is sad enough not only to find this humorous but is insensitive and ignorant enough to consider that others would welcome the chance to share in the fun. I ain't laughing. At times, contemplating the sort of thoughtless morons who sully our society with such a tactless lack of gumption depresses the life out of me. Is that all those girls' lifes were worth? The chance for a bit of a titter about hookers... Brilliant.