With almost everything at the Greek Hovel fixed, I headed into the village of Kambos for supper opting to go to the ouzerie opposite the olive press. 4 Euro for two skewers of pork drizzled in lemon, what a bargain. Sitting outside, in the cold night air was my friend Vangelis and two old geezers who greeted me warmly. But inside…

I have so far named two paedophile teachers from my time at Warwick School: Alan Wilkins , who is dead, and Charles Watmough who is alive and who I tried to doorstep a year ago. In both cases Warwick covered up what it knew and allowed both nonces to move on to fresh fields without a stain on their character. Wilkins, I believe, carried on noncing in Harrogate while Watmough gave private piano lessons to kids in Scarborough. That is Warwick’s shame. Last night a chap from the year below me got in touch having read this website.

English Rugby seems to be a financial mess. As an Ireland supporter I cannot say that I shed many tears and my Welsh speaking younger kids will be delighted about this. These days Wales supporters have little to cheers so allow them this rare dose of schadenfreude.

As you can see, I have a co-worker. While I hammer away at my keyboard he has been sitting here all day quietly dozing away. It is a hard life for some.