LAST WORD
April 1st 2005, 11am. I’m pushing bacon around my plate with a disinterested fork. I’d just lost years of emails, followed by my appetite. “They must be on my hard disk somewhere,” I pleaded, hoping it was a date prank. “Yes and no,” my IT buddy replied, sipping his third short black. “That’s what happens when Outlook crashes — they’re there, but they’re irretrievable. You eating that bacon?” “Nah...” It vanished in a blur of cutlery, caffeine and disgruntled seagulls. “It’s 2005, dude. The
