Hold on, hold on. The sky may be grey and winter might be fast setting in; across the Atlantic, we may well have seen the return of fascism to world politics for the first time in eighty years; there may be dark, troubled times ahead. Yet this week we also saw something far more remarkable: something which I find more remarkable than James Bond, The Olympics, Star Trek, Monty Python or anything like that. This week we saw the greatest broadcaster ever return to our screens: Sir David Attenborough.

I was going to blog about this a few days ago, but left it. I find Sir David incredible. To think that he started broadcasting before either of my parents were born in 1952, and is still presenting such fascinating, beautiful nature documentaries is absolutely jaw-dropping. More to the point, he has made us more aware of the natural world than any other person, bringing it’s wonders into our living rooms and guiding us through it’s intricacies as nobody else could. Attenborough’s current series is about Asia, of course, but through him and only him we have grown to understand the entire world; and it is indeed wonderful.

As far as I am concerned, Attenborough stands head and shoulders above any other broadcaster, regardless of genre, nationality or anything else. The body of work behind him is incredible. His voice alone seems to have the ability to engross us, so that when we start watching his programmes the wider, more troubled world fades into the background, and for forty-five minutes or show we are captivated by what we are being shown. This can range from the sight of elephants tromping across the African savannah to earth-worms crawling through English gardens. To think he has been doing this for seven decades is incredible – Attenborough truly is a national treasure.

The world may be troubled right now: War is flaring in Eastern Europe and the Middle East; and the world’s most powerful nation has elected a fascistic charlatan as it’s president. The future, especially over the next few months and years, is unclear and uncertain. Yet I find great solace in the fact that there are still some constants in the world, upon which we can all depend. David Attenborough is one such constant; he seems to be above all the mirk and grime, cutting through it to show us the beauty of nature beneath. He is far, far greater than any of the charlatans, monsters or idiots of the political world, and no doubt will still be cherished long after they have faded into irrelevance.