It was a beautiful spring afternoon. The sunlight on the river was just as fresh as early morning, and the low sun was casting silver and gold onto the trees.
I like these kind of days. Sammy does too; she said it made her feel alive. I think, at moments like this in history, that’s a thing to be treasured.
For me, days like this loosen up my brain and get me thinking more fluidly. It could be that influx of vitamin D from the low sun; or it could just be that I’m happier on the inside. Nevertheless, I had a few clear thoughts going on by the river, and that has somehow made me feel more alive too.
Meanwhile there’s lots to think about. Over in Russia, Putin has put his nuclear deterrent on ‘special alert’ which, we can only suppose is meant to be a bit of a scare tactic for the west.
I listened to a few different podcasts about it and worryingly, nobody is convinced of anything at all any more. They told us he wouldn’t annex Crimea; he did. They said he probably wouldn’t invade Ukraine; he did. Nobody wants to second guess him now.
It’s an unpredictable move then, probably a power play, but a dangerous one. It’s a bit like when someone threatens to do something unthinkable in the middle of an argument and you have to wonder whether they actually would. Then you wonder whether that person is very simply manipulating your fear. Either way, when fingers loom over the ‘do not push’ button, great care is required.
It all seems a million miles away from the Sunday afternoon riverside. But England is linked to France; France shares a border with Germany, Germany with Poland and Poland with Ukraine. And the collective thought was that if Putin were going to push that button, he’d do it in the North Sea between Britain and Denmark anyway - a warning shot off the bows where no human casualties are likely.
Don’t get me wrong. That would still be huge and awful. And great and terrible actions have great and terrible consequences. But better that than London. And better than the terrifying concentric circles of radiation drawn out for us across the South of England by the Daily Express.
I said I didn’t think he’d do it. It would be an insane thing to do, despite his sabre-rattling.
The drive home from the river was a quiet discussion of what so-called ‘mutually assured destruction’ means, and how it’s held back a world war for seventy years.
The sun blinked through the trees; the dappled road wound back up the hill and shadows flicked across the tarmac as we sped through them. It is quite a world this. We invented the power to end it all, to obliterate life on Earth with the flick of a switch, and somehow our ability to use these terrible weapons has formed a fragile arch of protection that keeps us safe on both sides of the Atlantic.
As long as nobody stupidly starts pulling bricks out.
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