You can imagine the conversation in our house on Thursday evening whilst Ann was watching Emmerdale (without the farm apparently). I inadvertently discovered whilst making a brew we have run out of teabags.
I can tell you that I was dispatched pretty quickly to replenish supplies because as I have discovered life in Eccles towers would not continue to exist without the afore mentioned items.
To compensate for missing this “snippet of life in the country” I decided to go shopping in my sports car which I have to say is getting a great deal more use than any sensible owner would own up to. In my mind my car is female, mainly because she has a mind of her own and the running costs are astronomical. In Ann’s mind it is Mr Grey, mainly because she says she feels as though she has been beaten when she has travelled any distance in it.
Now you can imagine my surprise when I came out of go our local supermarket and looked over at our glowering hills (a term I borrowed from another very northern bloke Woolly Wolstenholme) to see the moors on fire, a vision that looked more than a little like Mordor on a good day.
Now not being the type of person who would take advantage of the situation, after all I am a media person. I chose to travel hastily but in a safe manner (my last insurance quote would have made your eyes bleed) up the hill on the romantically names Isle of Skye Road to take a photograph of the armageddon that was taking place in front of my eyes. I jumped out of the car took a few snaps on my iPhone and left for home.
When I arrived home I thought it was my duty to share my adventures of witnessing the unfolding drama on twitter.
I was amazed at the response the post got. I had local and national papers asking if they could use my images, people asking me if the fire was put out and the most shocking of all someone asking me how much wildlife had perished.
All these questions perplexed me no end. How was I going to answer these obviously concerned genteel folk? I thought I would have to be subtle and not state the obvious outcome, which in my twisted mind sounded like “they all died”.
I could not reconcile being responsible for these concerned folks becoming manic depressives, so I did what any rational person would do, I ignored them. Now I know it sounds callous I know but think about it, it would be like telling them that all the puppies in the world had died.
Now I am not proud of what I did but just think of how many people went to bed not worrying about dead puppies or celebrities (this year the grim reaper has been working overtime).
So after my news of becoming a fire storm paparazzi (which has been far less profitable than taking a photograph of Kim Kardashians large arse) I will leave you to enjoy the rest of your weekend doing things you like to do and not dwelling on things you don’t.
So may your god go with you and remember live in the moment, because apparently they can never ever be repeated.