Underlining the sense of panic, the British Government announced that it was sending a Royal Air Force plane loaded with €1m to provide emergency loans to British troops, as banks on the island remained closed and cash machines ran out of money.
While more books are being published every year – almost 150,000 annually in the UK, at the last count – the places to discover them are thinning out: bookshops have closed, cash-starved libraries have slashed their book-buying budgets and newspapers have pared down book reviews.
Most banks, shops and bars have closed, cash-dispensers have been switched off and street traffic lights no longer work.
Whose interests should university leaders be lobbying for behind closed doors: cash-strapped research departments or cash-strapped undergraduates?
Bruce made two dubious assumptions: that strategy was largely a financial game; and that the firm's product portfolio was a closed system, where cash had to come from other parts of the portfolio (the cash cows).
And so after painful days of cash shortages, closed banks, dwindling supplies of anything imported, from medicine to cigarettes, and mounting fear, the extraordinary U-turn was met with more resignation than anger.
Electrical and water supply is sporadic, banks and cash points are closed, government and official law-enforcement agencies have been evacuated.
Many of the carriers most exasperated with the delays are, in fact, dancing behind closed doors: They have little cash on hand and few financing options in this credit climate.
On Monday, cash machines remained closed until midday, and then opened for withdrawals of no more than 60 euros a day.
