Now, looking at your sleeping face, inches away from me, listening to your occasional sigh and gurgle, I wonder how I could have ever thought glory and prizes and praise were sweeter than life.
I went to see my supervisor today to discuss my thesis topic. Somewhere along the line, we got carried away and she mentioned Fergal Keane. The next thing I know, she all teared up and in her catch-up breaths, red eyes and fanning fingers to cover the overwhelming emotions, she affirmed: when this was aired, every Brits who were driving had to pull over and cry. That’s the power of journalism.