After the solar storm

“This is the United Nations Of Europe (but not Greece) News at 10. An old laptop, found buried in an area of Eng-er-land, known at Cumbrya, has revealed a chilling glimpse back in time to the solar storm disaster of 2012. Now here’s Tracy with the weather for the weekend!”

Transcription of an audio file discovered on a battered laptop, surrounded by empty bits of brightly coloured foil with ancient text imprinted on it, saying “Egg” and “Creme” and crushed waxed-cardboard cups, which scientists have discovered contained traces of the illegal stimulant ‘Coffee’.

Entry 1: March 8th 2012, 8.45pm Hello. My name is Jenwis Hamilbutton. No, hang on... it’s Peter. Peter Grenville. I’m so hungry and confused! Something terrible has happened. We’ve been hit by a catastrophic storm. Not a regular one (we’re used to those – this is Cumbria after all), but one caused by a coronal mass ejection from the Sun.

Basically, the sun sneezed, and sent a big solar flare towards earth. I always thought solar flares were what Roy Wood wore on Top Of The Pops in 1975, but it turns out this was far, far worse than the bearded-one’s trousers...

First, the GPS systems dropped out. I only realised this when a couple from London rang my doorbell and insisted they were in Eastbourne “because the satnav in the Range Rover says so”.

As darkness fell, a beautiful aurora lit up the night sky. Well... I assume it did. As I mentioned, this is Cumbria, so it was raining and I couldn’t see anything.

Then the internet crashed. That was terrifying. It felt like I’d been thrown violently back in time to a point where the web didn’t exist. Like 1975. What is it about 1975? It’s like it’s some sort of terrifying prog-rock-obsessed fixed point in the universe!

My phone didn’t work, and we soon realised the TV and radio had gone down too. And then the lights went off...

Entry 2: Things are desperate now! I just found myself naked in the street, fighting an elderly lady for a tin of baked beans. She told me she was surprised the police let me go after the previous incident, but I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about.

Entry 3: Final Entry It’s all over – civilisation has fallen. We’re alone. In darkness. Cut off from the world, with no heating, water, food or fuel. And more importantly, no way of tweeting about it either. I don’t know how we can survive any longer. Who knew a solar storm could be this devastating? I just want a cappuccino.

Oh God, no... the battery is going! Goodbye, cruel world. We became so dependant on our precious technology, we can’t survive without it. It’s 9.45pm on the 8th of March 2012...

This blog post appeared yesterday as an entry in the North West Evening Mail's "Big Blogger" competition. Do me a favour - click on this link to view it on their website, please? Thanks to your clicks, I've made it through to the last 7. Another person gets eliminated next Monday... Bit scared now.

(No music tonight - I'm sort of watching Formula 1. On my laptop. Shhhhh.....)

Faking it for real

As Donald “I’m really great, everybody says so” Trump is so fond of pointing out, there is a lot of fake news around nowadays. Honest. Your friends at Facebook think so too, and have recently been publishing their top tips for spotting false news – by placing them as ads in newspapers. Considering they came in for considerable criticism themselves, that’s like shouting “Squirrel!” and pointing at a tree whilst you hastily kick away the prize begonias you just trampled. To help you make sense of this (and because I’m a caring person), I thought I’d run you through their suggestions and help to explain them for you. I know. I’m lovely. 1. Be sceptical of headlines READING THIS ARTICLE WILL IMPROVE YOUR SEX LIFE!!! And explain that catchy headlines, or stuff all in capitals might be a bit iffy. 2. Look closely at the URL You can find out more about this at www.wowyouregullible.com if you want to understand how phony web addresses are a sure sign of dodgyness. 3. Investigate...

Going Underground

The US presidential election and Brexit must have made me more nervous than I’d realised. It seems I’ve created an underground bunker without realising I was doing it. Still – we’ve all done that at some point, right? No? Ah... In that case, the fact that I have inadvertently turned my cellar into a rudimentary survival shelter, just in case it all kicks off, demonstrates a severe case of bunker mentality. Fretting about Donald and his wall, and Hillary and her emails, clearly made me more paranoid that I thought about the possibility of WW3 kicking off. Whilst attempting to find a specific size of imperial washer the other day (turns out I’d mis-filed it in the nut cabinet – Tsk!) I was struck by what a lot of jam and chutney we have in the cellar. And I do mean a LOT. There are boxes of boiled-up sugar and fruit and more boxes of boiled up vinegar and fruit. We’re still only part way through 2015’s output too. Then there’s the plastic containers holding pasta in various for...

"It's all gone quiet..." said Roobarb

If, like me, you grew up (and I’m aware of the irony in that) in the ‘70s, February was a tough month, with the sad news that Richard Briers and Bob Godfrey had died. Briers had a distinguished acting career and is, quite rightly, fondly remembered most for his character in ‘The Good Life’. Amongst his many roles, both serious and comedic, he also lent his voice to a startling bit of animation that burst it’s wobbly way on to our wooden-box-surrounded screens in 1974. The 1970s seemed to be largely hued in varying shades of beige, with hints of mustard yellow and burnt orange, and colour TV was a relatively new experience still, so the animated adventures of a daft dog and caustic cat who were the shades of dayglo green and pink normally reserved for highlighter pens, must have been a bit of a shock to the eyes at the time. It caused mine to open very wide indeed. Roobarb was written by Grange Calveley, and brought vividly into life by Godfrey, whose strange, shaky-looking sty...

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