A Pythonesque school reunion

What button do you press to begin a computer shutdown procedure? Hardly surprising old people have problems getting to grips with computer technology.

I‘m thinking of having a no-email day. I’ll set my out-of-office message to say: “I’m not accepting e-mail today. Should you wish to communicate with me, then pick up the phone for a change.”

A cat from Bristol called Wilbur strayed into its next door’s garden and encountered a hungry 13ft pet Burmese python. Days later, when the python was scanned by the RSPCA, Wilbur’s remains were identified by his micro-chip inside the snake’s body. Wilbur’s owners, the Wadeys, are now launching a ‘Justice for Wilbur’ campaign. They say the unusual manner of his death highlights an anomaly in British law: pythons are not covered by the Dangerous Wild Animals Act. The Wadeys believe such snakes should be licensed and owners prosecuted if they leave them to roam. Martin Wadey said: “Wilbur’s little life was brutally snuffed out. We don’t want it to have been in vain.” As far as I can see, Wilbur’s life wasn’t in vain; he was a tasty little snack for a neighbour’s pet.

The school reunion in Liverpool went very well. There were so many in attendance that about 200 of us had to go off-piste in an adjacent dining room, having the speeches piped to us via the PA system. The First Sea Lord’s speech was unedifying and far too long by 20 minutes (it was 20 minutes). He proceeded to lose the majority of the audience after about the 5th minute and we in the annexe got busy with the serious business of throwing bread rolls between the tables of the different years.

He made the mistake of trying to make a few political points, and given we Old Conways cover a fairly wide political spectrum, he ended up getting barracked by one particularly annoyed individual who we all suspect was well oiled, as he subsequently fell on the hotel step while taking a breath of fresh air outside and had to be taken to hospital for a hip replacement.


The Adelphi Hotel was OK, but not worth the specially negotiated rate of £90 a night. The bathroom was what could only be described as ‘minimalist and functional’, being reminiscent of a somewhat Spartan Victorian NHS hospital bathroom. The bedroom was well past its sell-by-date and living on past glories - I suspect it has only recently been provided with an electricity supply. The view from the window, which took me about 5 minutes of strenuous effort to prise open, comprised what looked like an air conditioning unit, but couldn’t be as the hotel doesn’t seem to have air conditioning. As for the function rooms; gold Hammerite is not a good replacement for gold leaf ornamental embellishment. The hallways looked like a set from the film ‘The Shining’.

The ‘functional’ bathroom.

The wonderful view.

While driving around Liverpool to find a car park I strayed into China Town and spotted the sign below. On returning home I showed Hay the photo and being fluent in Cantonese I translated it for her.


Translated into Cantonese it says ‘Belly Stleet’.

I noticed lots of girls in town doing their shopping while wearing massive Day-Glo coloured hair curlers. I phoned my 22 year-old niece who lives in the Wirral and enquired of her whether this was the latest fashion fad, which she confirmed. Apparently it’s part of the preparation ritual for going out in the evening – you put your curlers in your hair in the morning and go out to town for the afternoon, advertising the fact you’re hitting the night spots in the evening. A little research tells me it was started by those arbiters of fashion and good taste, Liverpool footballers’ wives. I call it fishwife or Coronation Street chic.

Postings this week may be sporadic, as I'm winding down for my 2 week holiday which starts at the end of the week.