Showing posts from February, 2012

Three marriages, an eyepatch and a damaged liver.

The title refers to the stereotype of the foreign correspondent rather than an individual.

This morning I awoke with my heart in my mouth. I awoke from nightmares, war like.
I'm not sure how I'm going to make the rent. I just coughed up a months rent to pay for hostile environment training. A training that will prepare me, should I put myself in the position, to go into a war zone. Deadlines are gathering, I need to find work and make big decisions. I need to write this blog. There is an imperative. To file copy.

Marie Colvin died this week. She has been the name on everyone's lips. From politicians on BBC Question time to columnists across the broadsheets. She has been held up as an exemplar of the trade of journalism. She is the women who went the extra mile, the one who exposed what was really happening in Homs, who demonstrated with words what happens when a regime tries to stomp out an uprising. More than that, she has been held up as a bastion of the fourth esta…