Wrong place, wrong time

The staff were watching some motor racing at lunchtime yesterday. “Where’s that? It looks bloody wet,” I remarked. “Silverstone, qualifying for tomorrow’s Grand Prix,” I was told.
     I looked out of a window. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. Meanwhile, just a few score miles away, they were waving a red flag because even with “wet” tyres, the cars were aquaplaning.