We don't have Evan Davis. I'd forgotten all about him until yesterday - it's called blotting out trauma, I think. But I dropped my guard and there he was again. In that solitary instant of less than complete vigilance, the full horror came flooding back.
What I especially hated when I lived in London was that moment in the morning when you'd turn on the Today programme and listen in trepidation - and, oh no, it was the D team, Evan Davis and that token woman, who has an exceptionally annoying voice.
But, hang on - I've just caught a glimpse of Eddie McGuire. I'd forgotten about him as well. The scoreboard's gone back into draw territory all of a sudden. Damn.
Fifteen minutes of life … - … *Beyond Eastrod: "The Secrets of Lovedale Hollow" -- a creative nonfiction rendering of a bewildering autobiographical memory*.
1 hour ago