Doesnae bear thinking about, does it, the meteorite that crashed – it came from outer space – onto some godforsaken bit of Russia with the impact of 30 atom bombs? I’m still petrified as I wield this trusty quill.
Russia, mind you, was a fairly apt choice by the aliens who sent it with love, though given a choice, I’d have plumped for the upstart North Korea and its loopy leader badly in need of a civilised haircut.
Supposing, just supposing, the rock had landed, say, at the foot of Leith Street. Every one of us would have been reduced to dust. Mortonhall and Warriston would have been closed for business instantly.
This mind-boggling episode takes me back a good wee while to when what was thought to be something spooky from space crashed into Edinburgh. True. If my memory serves me correctly, on to a Corstorphine bungalow, to be precise, and my colleagues at North Bridge conjured a suitably sensational front page for the Evening Dispatch – Steaming hot lump hits city roof.
Malodorous, you may think, but it did qualify for our scrapbook of classic headlines. I do hope my memory is serving me well.
The camera-shy Marianne Faithfull won’t be muffled. Here she comes again with: “I’ve got to where I’ve always wanted to be. I just feel more myself and I’ve learned not to care what other people think. It happened slowly, very slowly. But I did it.” And, inevitably, on Mick Jagger: “He was very upset because I left him. He loved me and I loved him but I had to step out and be my own person.”
Her Broken English album has been reissued.