One of those days

Have you ever spent six hours working on a large Word document which has then crashed and when you try to re-open the file . . . you can't? This is the sort of day I've been having. It was the sort of day I had yesterday, too, and the day before that was the day I woke at 6 to hear that Alan Johnston had been released and I had sincerely meant to record here exactly how I felt about that, and what it told us about the immense value and importance of 'real' journalism in this world. Above all, my awed admiration for this gaunt, pale, blinking man, as he emerged into the maelstrom surrounding his release - his dignity, the almost effortless way in which he straight away began to offer a balanced, articulate, self-effacing account of his captivity, his good humour, his touching insistence on an immediate haircut (he was right - he looked gorgeous afterwards!). What a guy. The phrase 'consummate professionalism' has been ubiquitously applied, but, really, it can't be bettered. And now, at his insistence, attention is being drawn to the other 'forgotten' western hostages in the middle-east. May he enjoy a long, well-deserved and peaceful period of unwinding in Lochgoilhead. With cups of tea whenever he likes.

Oh, anyway, I finally managed to open the file in some notepad-y application or other, so I recovered the data and will only have to spend an hour re-formatting everything, rather than six hours re-writing it. Phew. No thanks whatever to Microsoft's impenetrably badly indexed online 'help' pages - worse than useless.

Just been listening to some of my favourite guitar music, played by my very favourite guitarist in all the world. And looking at some fabulous photographs by one of my favourite photographers. With a very large mug of tea.

[Rant of the day: it is extremely dangerous to take photographs while driving. Even on the inside lane. You know who you are. (But you won't for much longer if you carry on like that.)]