Keeping my fingers crossed didn't do Andy Murray much good then.

I woke around 5 a.m. when Murray's game had just started but couldn't drag myself out of bed to watch it. Over the course of the match I caught the score now and then when I momentarily surfaced and at one point had the impression that he was heading for victory in the fifth set but when I finally got up it was all over. Too bad. Roll on Roland Garros.

I've just signed up for what must be the cheapest language course in the world. It works out at £1.25 per hour over the session. Just what the economist ordered in these trying times. The other resoundingly plus points are that it's during the day, my evenings being taken up by rehearsals, entertainment and social activities, and it's only ten minutes walk from my flat. I tried a couple of different levels this week and have settled for one that should give a good brush up to my Spanish.

The class is held in a secondary school and that in itself is quite fun. It's an old building, in very good order inside, full of little stairways and long corridors and mysteriously marked doors. I was following a labyrinthine route trying to find my way out and as I went up a stair a gaggle of kids rushed down towards me and as they passed I heard a boy cry "Captain Hook".

Goodness me I thought and turned to bask in the glory of having been recognised by a fan but the crowd swept on leaving me forlornly crying "Yes I was he, did you like the show?"

The heat of the moment having subsided rationality crept in. At most the lad was 17. My Captain Hook would have had to be very powerful indeed to have seared itself into a 4 year old's head and the memory to have popped out in a brief encounter 13 years later. I'd like to believe it but I'm not entirely daft.