THEY are the best of times; they are the worst of times. They can be full of laughter and cheer; they can be full of frustration and stress.

They are a time to be with friends and family; they are a time to avoid all forms of human life.

Charles Dickens used some of these words to describe the revolutionary developments of the French in the late 18th Century.

But if he were writing today he may have decided to direct his talent towards describing the way us Brits deal with Bank Holidays.

It’s intended to be a day where we can run away from all our stresses in life and focus on doing things that we normally never have time for.

Friends, family, food, football – whatever your bag, these few sacred days a year are yours to do with as you please.

But in reality, the best laid plans never quite become a reality.

And that’s why the sacred bank holiday becomes as divisive as a tub of the black stuff which some of you like to spread on toast.

Both of them make me wince to be honest.

It all starts off fine.

In the days before, the excitement builds to what we all know as a “long weekend”.

You carefully structure the day in regimental style: 8am wake up, 8am to 10am lie in, 10.30am breakfast, etc.

But, however much you plan, things start to unravel very quickly.

It may be that you celebrated the extra day too much the night before, it may be you forgot to buy the things for breakfast, it may be that the neighbours or the kids are not quite reading the same script as you.

And when you eventually get out the front door, you realise that everyone else had the same idea, meaning getting from A to B is nigh on impossible.

And if all of that doesn’t bother you, then the good old British weather will always turn even the biggest optimist into Victor Meldrew.

Personally I don’t take it very well at all.

Which means I’ve been known not only to have an “I don’t believe it moment”, but also go all Basil Fawlty and start jumping on my hat while using a bush to attack my car.

For that reason – and for the sake of wider society – I normally just stay indoors. Or go to work.

The Argus: Tributes left for Matthew Grimstone and Jacob Schilt at Worthing United's ground

THIS time round was going to be different.

For me, today is a rare bank holiday where I am not at work. And, like many of you I had plans already formulating in my mind to make the most of a bit of “me” time.

This year I’m making a real conscious effort to watch more non-league football in our county.

So more than six weeks ago I pencilled in a match to watch near my home.

The game was at Worthing United.

But, as has been widely reported, events of recent days mean that this is no longer happening.

It made me think back to past bank holidays where I just got frustrated at everyone around me.

It’s too hot, it’s too wet, there are too many people about.

If there was something to moan about, I’d normally find it.

But this year I’m a lot more calm about the whole thing.

After witnessing the events of Saturday’s air show, everything has been put into perspective.

On the one hand I’m a journalist who’s supposed to be reporting on events, trying to put the devastation into some form of context for those seeking answers.

Yet on the other I’m a resident of a small close-knit town which is literally in shock at the whole thing.

Unlike most, there’s been little time for me to dwell on what happened.

As soon as I saw the plume of smoke rise up from behind the trees on Saturday afternoon, I was expected to go into professional mode.

This meant forgetting about family, who live less than a mile away from the airport.

This meant forgetting about friends, who may have been using that stretch of road at the time.

All it meant was I was trying to find some sense to the whole thing.

And, in one of the most difficult parts of the job, that means asking questions about issues which many simply don’t want to think about as they remain in shock.

So, as I write this in advance, this weekend I’ll be spending some of my time simply thinking.

On Saturday evening I’ll stand alongside my community at the candlelit vigil on Shoreham’s Adur Ferry Bridge.

But privately, I will be thinking about the whole thing and try to do my bit to make things a little easier for those affected.

To go back to Dickens, the aftermath of the airshow has been the best of times, seeing a community rally together and support those who need it.

But it’s also been the worst of times as we all come to terms with a genuine tragedy on our doorstep.