FOR hundreds of people travelling through Worcestershire yesterday, the full horror of the foot-and-mouth crisis arrived on their doorsteps.

If the calls to the Evening News were anything to go by - in our experience, they will have been the tip of an iceberg - descriptions of the sight of sheep being slaughtered yards from a busy Worcester dual-carriageway have already echoed around the city and the communities beyond.

Today's Front Page story paints a grim picture, and we wouldn't seek to suggest that anyone traumatised by what they saw should be regarded as over-sensitive.

How many of us, indeed, wouldn't have been jolted by the scenes?

What's clear is that, in the eyes of many, the slaughtermen made one error - they didn't screen the killing field from the view of motorists before they started their cull.

However, if the scenes on Swinesherd Way are a measure of what people across large swathes of rural Herefordshire and Worcestershire are having to face, day in, day out, perhaps the horror will have had some kind of enlightening effect on the urban community.

MAFF officials agree that the sight was unfortunate, but they "can't seek to hide it. It's coming home to all of us in different ways".

You might agree. You might not. But here's a thought.

The Evening News has heard anecdotal evidence of MAFF helpline operators traumatised by dealing with the relentless tide of calls from desperate, angry, bewildered farmers.

For eight weeks, the dread has been unbearable for everyone directly connected with the crisis. Will tomorrow bring suspicions of an infection? Will the next day mean slaughter?

Ghastly though it undoubtedly was, for those of us whose contact has been one drive past one killing field, maybe - just maybe - we should count ourselves lucky.