I woke up to the most wonderful news today that
Alan Johnston has been freed after nearly four terrifying months in captivity.
It seems ironic that he is released at a time when the UK is on a critical security alert fearing an imminent terrorist attack.
At this time, let’s not forget other political prisoners around the world who don’t have the same powerful contacts and profile as the BBC. Let’s hope there is also a successful outcome for Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit who was abducted by Hamas terrorists a year ago.
Welcome home Alan!
Wonderful news. I heard it as it was breaking – I was listening Radio 5 on in bed last night!
Yes – some good news at last.
I am out of touch! I hadn’t heard that: it’s wonderful news.
Good stuff. He’s such a brave and nice man. Journalists are my heroes and heroines these days. And that odious, pustulant, crapulant, corrupting creep Blair has the audacity to call them ‘feral’ – curse his soul !
Though these days I get my news from you and The Hitch. Paul Daker, of my favourite journal, appears to be up Broon’s butt-cheeks and I am majorly despondent because this Nu labourite protagonist was there from the outset and is getting away with murrrdurrrr (as Taggart would have said).
(Tis me attempting to get more Kevinisms in the British Library archives – do tell if I’m cramping your style.)
E-K, you are perfect as you are, promise me you’ll never change!
I’ll never change, Ellee, which is regrettable. I have a very poor memory which borders on senility, an inability to recognise people in different contexts, “Why didn’t you speak to me the other day, you just gave me this really wierd smile.” I had seen my colleague at a pub in town and had convinced myself that he was a noteworthy local jazz guitarist – my inane grin was one of adulation bordering on sheer love, I think it really disturbed the poor chap. I am also lazy because I’m really not that keen on movement and prefer to remain static. Though my life is physically active this is motivated through guilt rather than enthusiasm. Yesterday I commited a sin which almost amounted to willful neglect of my children – I was engrossed in the computer when my children arrived home, at least I thought it was my children; it was, in fact, one of my children and a friend he had brought home (well they all look the bloody same to me). Sam was at African Drumming class and I forgot to pick him up at 4pm – he used his innitiative and made his way home with friends luckily, but I’m having difficulty forgiving myself over this.
I am not perfect physically either, I would much prefer wider shoulders and narrower hips – do you know that Italian waiter bum effect ? I don’t speak French either, Ellee, though I really ought to bearing in mind my working experiences. I don’t have the sexy Gallic accent that you like but Mrs E-K loves it when I do a Transilvanian one (we have this Count Dracula role play thingy)
I can’t recite poetry like Newmania, cook like Welshcakes or save lives like Mens Sana. If only I could steal some of their goodness – I would deal with the Devil for it.
Oh – I have a really poor memory too.
You’re one of my journalistic heroines too, Ellee, and such a pretty one at that. I hope no-one minds my being sentimental for a little while.
E-K, Please don’t be so hard on yourself, don’t compare youself to others so unfavourably. You have a beautiful wife and a gorgeous family and should count your blessings at the end of each day. My friend Geoff does this, he counts five special memories/blessings from the day.
I find we are always our own harshest critic and other people do not look at us in the way we imagine. So relax and smile and keep a sense of humour.
Oh, Ellee,
I was only joking 🙂 You are such a sweetie sometimes.
E-K, I’m mightily relieved you was just joking, you are a terrible tease 😉