Exeter this morning to collect a new ‘music centre’ (CD player and DAB radio). My wireless was on its last legs and I’ve all but had it with the television. Even Sky News of which I once counted myself a fan. Their advert breaks remind me of those high streets in impoverished borders towns, where every other premises is a charity shop. Sky’s diet of grief from Grenfell and Manchester barely gets going before it is interrupted by a succession of sad sorts making demands on our pocket money to help rescue crippled donkeys or sad-looking urchins in faraway lands. It’s not the way I want to stay informed or be entertained.