Whenever I hear the word ‘executive’ used as an adjective, I can’t help but think of two characters created by the brilliant Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie.

“Busy senior executives” Gordon and Stuart made their first appearance in this sketch, from the pilot episode of A Bit Of Fry And Laurie. They dine in the executive breakfast lounge and use executive trouser presses and order executive room service because they’re executive businessmen. Or as Stu/Hugh puts it in a later sketch, ‘Gordon And Stuart Eat Greek’: “What am I, a peasant or a busy executive?”.

And the reason I mention it? Well, I’m typing this on an executive computer while sipping on a bottle of executive water in the environs of the hotel’s ’Executive Lounge’. M, the hotel manager - who is an absolute sweetheart and can’t do enough for me - learned of my Macbook plight and said I could use this place on the 15th floor because the atmosphere is much nicer and, well, more executive than the ‘business centre’ on the ground floor, which is clearly meant for peasants.

It has an executive view:

And executive furniture:

And pipes executive music through the executive sound system (mainly ‘I Believe I Can Fly’ on saxophone). There’s also executive tea and coffee (various sorts), executive cookies (at least two jars), executive papers (the Wall Street Journal and the International Herald Tribune) and executive fruit (mangoes). It’s all very fabulous. And executive. Thank you, M.

But now I must away to the pool, to sunbathe and swim and write an executive setlist for tonight. Ta-ta!

…it’s 1.26am and I need to go to bed… but I’m finding it hard to leave the ‘business centre’. Because, I realise, I’ve become addicted to using my Macbook last thing at night. In my jimjams. Emailing/blogging/whaddever, then turning it off, and getting into bed.

But right now I can’t do that. I’ve got to leave the ‘business centre’, walk to the lift, get in the lift, go up five floors, get out of the lift, walk along a corridor, put my key in the door… oh, you get the idea.

Must. Log. Off.

Very hard. To leave. Computer.

Maybe a “one last thought of the day” post will do it.

One last thought of the day: The Grammys.

I’m delighted for Amy Wino. I know she can over-egg the musical pudding, but she’s hugely talented, and it’s nice to see that talent rewarded.

Sadly, Kurt Elling didn’t win in the Jazz Vocal category. Sadly, Freddy Cole didn’t win, either. Now Freddy: if only you’d recorded a follow-up to Waiter, Ask The Man To Play The Blues: Freddie Cole Sings And Plays Some Lonely Ballads - perhaps Waiter, Ask The Man To Play Agadoo: Freddy Cole Sings And Plays Your Party Favourites While Mysteriously Changing The Spelling Of His Name - then you could have been in with a chance.

But the final factoid of the night: you know who did win a Grammy?

That’s riiiight!

Your favourite and mine - or possibly just yours - Mickey Bubble. His album Call Me Irresponsible scooped the prize for, believe it or not, ‘Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album’. I had no idea such a category existed, but if it puts Michael’s (I think I can call him “Michael”) win into any sort of context, in the same category he was up against:

Cool Yule - Bette Midler

Trav’lin’ Light - Queen Latifah

Live In Concert 2006 - Barbra Streisand

James Taylor At Christmas - James Taylor

No, that doesn’t make it any clearer, does it? Still, it could have been worse. He could have won the Jazz Vocal category. Nice to know the Grammy judges are on my side.