Control Room of Doom

This is Ben Fogle on Channel 5, inside the control room of reactor no.4 at the Chernobyl nuclear plant, in Ukraine, scene of the world's worst nuclear accident in 1986. I was 22 then, living in Bournemouth while doing a teacher training course, watching breakfast TV with my then-boyfriend when the news broke. Some incidents I can never forget. This is one of them.

But why blip it today? Well, for a start, the past three days have been foggy, work has been hectic and headachey, and I haven't been taking photos because I feel the urge to get home as soon as possible. Secondly, during yesterday's Short Stories discussion, we were discussing a post-apocalyptic story (Later, his ghost, by Sarah Hall) ans the tutor said that it had never crossed her mind that 'the disaster' and 'the sickness' referred to in the story could have been caused by nuclear fallout. For her, it was about climate change. I guess I'm showing my age. Each generation has its nightmares.

And, CoVid-19, while causing sickness, falls into neither category. I think we can safely call it a disaster created by humans, though. Unless it's the revenge of Gaia...

While shopping in Home Bargains today (mask on, hands and basket handles sanitised) I passed a rank of Lemsip and other remedies for colds and flu, and felt a wave of pure nostalgia for the 'simple' ailments of yesteryear, the ones without the side order of terror. Now don't get me wrong, if I caught a flu virus tomorrow, I wouldn't be happily reaching for the Beecham's, I'd be cursing my temporary weakness and the person that passed it on, was well as my own lack of hand and face hygiene. I'd go and get a CoVid test, in case. If it were negative, I'd surrender to the general malaise. But I wouldn't be worried. That's the difference between the Pre-CoVid era ailments and the way we feel about coughs and sniffles today.