Summertime Blues

Even the sunniest of days can sometimes be cast under a pall. I was shocked to find out on getting home last night about the terrible loss of life in Norway in the last twenty-four hours, inflicted by a maniac who was actually not a Muslim in any way shape or form, despite the best efforts of our tabloid press to try and insinuate otherwise. My thoughts are with Norwegian friends, and of course with the friends and families of the victims.

This was coupled today by the sad, though perhaps not surprising, death of Amy Winehouse. On Facebook, that peculiar curse of the early 21st century - ironic detachment - struck incredibly quickly. Though I was never a fan of her music, I recognise depression and mental illness when I see them, and really can't condone anyone who suggests that she in any way deserved this miserable end. (Or, for that matter, anyone who suggests that her death will overshadow the "more newsworthy" Norwegian massacres: tragedy is not a competition, and I'm annoyed that I live in a society where that should have to be said).

But either way, leaves like this one spend days like today in the sun. They may as well, because when the weather changes, it often happens without warning.