I want to write about having been away on a romantic night in Masham before spending a glorious weekend in sunny Scarbados, listening to Boyzone and Little Mix at the Open Air Theatre and taking my MiL to a surfer bar…
That seems a puerile and uselessly inane thing to do when children are being blown up in Gaza, while they hid, slept or played; for reasons I don’t fully understand.
I’ve seen the news…
I’ve seen the videos and pictures they don’t show on the news.
I want to look.
I don’t want to see.
I don’t know what to do.