Anyway, it was that time again. We all knew what in meant. We were all expecting the worst. So, when it failed to be as bad as everyone expected there was some disappointment. It does seem odd that people can be disappointed - looking back - by the lack of suffering, death and destruction, but we were.
When I awoke in the morning, surprised to be still alive, it seemed strange to go about my normal routine. It seemed much the same as any other day. Even when I turned the radio news on, they were still talking about the same old trivial political non-story they'd been boring everyone senseless with for well over a week.
It took around twenty minutes for them to get around to discussing the events of the previous night. You could sense too, that they too were disappointed. Perhaps that was why they were so reluctant to get around to the story - or rather, the non-story, as it turned out. It seemed they too wanted the misery, the fatalities, the heroic acts, the drama, the event.
I suppose something like that is the journalistic equivalent of the cup final. Something they dream about being involved in. I suppose they feel lucky to get even one such event in a career. The disappointment of last night must have felt like losing in the last minute of the semi-final.
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