This morning: The sight of a man pushing a baby buggy at speed along an early morning street. He wore shorts and trainers, it was coming on to rain and the buggy was empty. A burly man more likely to be twinned with a jack hammer, angle grinder. Or machine gun. Than a baby buggy. So delicate. And vulnerable in the hands of one so obviously brawny. Vulnerability coupled with strength, a tension’s there. Then a mental flash of him loosing it and hurling the buggy, thankfully empty, against a wall!

This morning: An interview on Radio 4’s Today program with two chaps. Quite different yet similar experiences following their tours of duty in the army. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A terrible terrible thing. One man climbing out of being declared ‘insane’. Doing well now. The other ignored his wife, wanted to hit her but didn’t. Locked in the hell of undiagnosed PTSD. He didn’t know. Too ashamed to be weak. To seek a way out ’till his wife and friends helped him find it. Talking got him back on track. Doing better now. Both still suffer extreme flash backs. Still.

This morning: Listening to the radio interview and then stepping out of the car. Seeing the buggy pusher on the street followed snap!, snap! fast. O the brutality of what men, and women, go through in war. O how good and civilizing the sight of burly men pushing prams, with big hands.

A thought for those suffering with PTSD. Wars over there and wars closer to home, or in the home. This is a terrible terrible thing this PTSD.