Dizraeli

I glance out over the snow-muffled terraces and tower blocks, as a sudden burst of sun glints off the gutter icicles. It’s brilliant, I think- car doors are frozen shut, people walk slow on the black-iced pavements, and everywhere there’s the secret delight of a shared crisis. There’s only eight days of gas supplies left, apparently, someone says, with a smile. 44% of the workforce have stayed at home, someone else says, with a raised eyebrow. It feels as if we’ve all found ourselves on a mystery ride, on a day off we didn’t know was coming, and we have a hunch it might be going somewhere exciting, or at least memorable. “The Big Freeze!”, yells The Sun; “No End In Sight!”
The Sun is an excited nine-year-old, running around with a bag of sweets and a toy machine-gun, seeing an Action-Packed Rollercoaster Thrill in every single national occurrence. It must be Intense, being The Sun. Back in the world of grown-ups, we pick our way across a new landscape, give up on our car doors, and smile.