Tariq Jahan: father of a murdered son

I am proud to live in the same city as Tariq Jahan. Many have contributed to the recovery and maintenance of civility in our streets but this one man’s dignity and courage and the words with which he expressed them in the midst of unimaginable grief at the loss of a son has influenced and moved a whole country helping to turn the flow of events towards peace. May we, may I, live up to him.
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The view from my window down the strath was fresh and clean after a week of rain and overcast. On Friday morning I said goodbye to the Highlands to return home to Birmingham. Oscar and I had a final walk on the esker before Sharon drove us to Inverness Station

"Time to go home, Oscar"

The journey as usual lasted nine hours. I passed the time as usual gazing from the window. occasionally chatting, other times eavesdropping, reading - Mark Twain's Pudd'nhead Wilson - watching a DVD of a John Ford Western, tending in small ways to Oscar, who as usual took the journey in his stride, marking out territory as we crossed several platforms to our Birmingham train at Waverley, teeming with Festival crowds. Lin met us five hours later at New Street.

"Are we there yet?"