A lot of this week’s posts seem to refer to my eyesight, but this one may help you see (even if I can’t) the scale of the problem.
This is my brother’s local pub last Saturday:
No one is sure what happened, though my stepmother says that my sister-in-law is top of the list of suspects.
You will notice that I did not take the picture at the actual scene, like the guy who took the iconic picture of the sailor kissing the nurse (a Peeping Tom, in other words), or the one who took the famous photo of Bigfoot, or whoever it was that was standing on the moon filming Neil Armstrong walking down the ladder.
Mine is a picture of YouTube footage on Mrs Tin’s laptop screen. A journalistic equivalent would be writing an eyewitness account of the Cup Final after watching highlights on Match Of The Day.
The problem referred to in the first paragraph is that I actually passed the scene last Saturday afternoon on the bus, upstairs in the front seat on the side nearest the pub, and never noticed anything.
Now, in my defence the fire was long out and the firemen were long gone (I think) but you would expect that I’d have noticed that the pub in which I have met my brother many times over a 20-year period (we used to sit in the window just to the left of the flames) was not looking its best.
There’s been a lot of stuff about the Titanic on TV here this week. I’ m starting to think that I might be related to the guy whose job it was to look out for icebergs.
Either that or I’m the grandson of Mr Magoo.