We see every mishap as a portent of doom. This is a country on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The stiff upper lip is wobbling, hysteria is in the air. A national nervous reflex, an involuntary panic spasm that greets every event.
Any minor setback sets off a crise de nerfs, a fit of the vapours turning any mishap into a crisis.
So it came to pass that a law was rushed through parliament this week postponing local elections never before cancelled in peace time. A neurotic over-reaction caused filthy pyres which closed the countryside down, destroying tourism which has created a genuine calamity. So it was with the Hatfield rail crash. A broken rail shattering into 300 fragments of steel came to symbolise the parlous 20-year decay of public services everywhere. Four people dead was a tragedy, sacrificed to the wanton privatisation of railways.