I'm just off the back of a superb weekend spent along the North Antrim Coast and in Donegal. It's a difficult part of the countryside to beat when the weather is good, and it was - very good. Drive by Malin Head round a few corners and there's an old curiosity shop full or nicknacks old railway signs,pottery and all sorts of everything else. You go in and there's no-one there. Then "as if by magic" the shopkeeper appears having hurtled down his lawn from from his bungalow nearby to help you with prices or just to help you feel you shouldn't leave without buying something. It's a curious experience.
Not having such a good weekend is Colonel Gadaffi. Today is probably one of those days when you may just remember where you were or what you were doing when his regime finally fell. Well I do. I drifted off to sleep last night listening to the BBC World Service. I awoke regularly throughout the night. Each time I did the rebels had advanced just that little bit closer to the centre of Tripoli and by the morning they pretty much had his compound surrounded. If they catch him alive I wonder how he's going to cope with his loss of status, power and control. Maybe he'll do a runner and end up owning his very own curiousity shop somewhere in a very remote part of the world.
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