I shall call him the Unknown Afghan Hero. The BBC footage of the assassination attempt on Hamid Karzai showed a civilian greeting the Afghan president through the window of his limousine. Suddenly, several shots rung out and this civilian, reacting instantaneously, swung round and hurled himself upon the would-be assassin, as did another man, before
I can’t imagine why people claim to enjoy camping. Before the trip – a six-week overland slog through southern Africa – I joked with friends about how impractical and ill-suited to the Outward Bound lifestyle I am; how I’m never knowingly more than six feet from a make-up bag, and am incapable of assembling, with
The workers teem over the building site that suddenly appeared on the overgrown river-bed which my holiday cottage overlooks. They like to get an early start before the merciless Andalusian sun starts roasting their leathery hides. A couple of hours before breakfast a raucous but not unappealing cacophony of tuned power tools fills the air.
Despite feeling ghoulish, my wife and I found ourselves drawn to the television set whenever an important development took place during the grim vigil at Soham. By the very nature of the event much of the footage and commentary was banal and, like the press, unavoidably intrusive. Sky was sharper, the BBC’s much-mocked News 24
In 1755 Lisbon was ruined by a massive earthquake, the shock waves from which were felt as far away as Switzerland. When the rumbling stopped, a great fire ensued, followed by a tsunami that washed away coastal villages. As I awoke on Tuesday morning, I had good reason to believe that Portugal’s capital was about
After Wednesday’s Tube strike, most Londoners will have decided again that the only solution is a bicycle. But there’s a dark side to cycling in the city. Since I bought my first bike a year or so ago I have been astonished by the outbursts of spittle-flecked fury pedestrians unleash upon cyclists. Any minor deviation
Monday Not happy. In fact I would say my GWB is at a record low. Among the deeply troubling unanswered questions I am wrestling with: Why was I not informed about Mr Simpson’s holiday reading list? Who authorised it? And what’s going to happen to the proper reading list I was tasked with drawing up?
Dave is not to be disturbed unless it’s urgent DIDs (Desert Island Discs) fallout MondayDave is en famille and not to be disturbed unless it’s urgent DIDs (Desert Island Discs) fallout, which means Mr Hague is in charge. Officially. Unofficially, DD keeps ringing up and tasking us with impossible demands. He may as well ask
I do want to believe there’s more to life than money but it does seem a bit — well — impractical MONDAYI do want to believe there’s more to life than money but it does seem a bit — well — impractical. Mummy is furious. Says if Dave would care to pay our vet’s bills
TuesdayHateful, horrid Tessa Jowell. Things have gone mad at Tory headquarters since the stupid row over her silly husband. Everyone sweating over share certificates. I’ve been put on to a new unit monitoring ‘outside interests’. Poppy wrote ‘Jose Mourinho’ on her form and had to start again. Childish, really. We have to ask our MPs
ThursdayOnly my third day, and I must say that it isn’t so easy being a Tory press officer in the AD era — that’s After Dave (My joke!). People may think it’s all frappaccinos and solar panels at Victoria Street but the reality is pretty shocking, actually. There’s the District Line, for a start, with