Way, way back in Sandringham hospital, I was having problems of my own. My stomach became upset, although this was not caused by the proximity to the brink of the destruction of humanity but an infection in my wounded hand. I went all blotchy and my temperature soared, I began to vomit hideous green muck, traced with red from my nose bleeds. I went temporarily blind and loud noises hurt my ears. My hands and feet throbbed. I was paralysed, my lips cracked painfully when I tried to speak, I dripped constantly with sweat and shook all over. They had to put a plastic sheet under me because I could no longer control my bowels or bladder. I gushed and flowed horrors from every orifice, even my pores, and pus from boils that burst out all over my body.

 

Amongst the better apocalyptic movies of the time was The Day the Earth Caught Fire, in which atomic tests have knocked the Earth out of its orbit and sent it toward the Sun, and humanity waits anxiously for a new bomb that hopefully will knock Earth back into its rightful place. Meanwhile, London swelters. What’s best about the film is that their is nary a scientist, politican or military man to be seen - they are only hinted at on radio - and it is all seen from the viewpoint of the helpless man in the street. Edward Judd and Janet Munro are the sweaty lovers, while Leo McKern is truly outstanding as the newspaper editor who hides his fear with the determination that tomorrow’s headline is far more important than the survival of humanity. Once again, monochrome was enployed to help us cope with the latent horror of it all. One would only hope we will all face the end with such stoicism and dignity.