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Sunday, September 15, 2002


Very seldom am I tempted to tell you intimate details of my life. This is not only because I am a very private, secretive person - Garbo had nothing on me - but also because I have read many blogs telling me things like 'I went out and closed the door behind me' followed by 'I made myself a sandwich'. (Yawn). Perhaps I've been fortunate to have missed 'Weblogcam' [Is there such an entity?], the lazy person's blog. Anyway, it is with some trepidation that I tell you the following, instructive story.

A few days ago, I had a phone call from one of my fellow students of the year of '22. Apparently, some of my contemporaries had disinterred themselves and flown over from Australia. They had asked to see 'Some of the old gang'. Personally, I was a bit miffed at the 'old', but I thought it only polite to go along. It was fascinating.

Many of them were now millionaires. As I parked my battered bicycle among the collection of Rolls Royces and Ferraris, I smiled with quiet satisfaction: none of them had achieved billionaire status and, throughout the evening I steadfastly forbore to participate in discussions about money. I do so hate to cause embarrassment by talking about my wealth.

One regret is that I failed, yet again, to learn the punchline from: 'Have you heard the story about the rubber elephant?' Windsor Castle, that they had hired, proved a great disappointment, but we did manage to arrange a further meeting in a more exciting location for several years hence, in Mexico. Perhaps I'll get the joke next time. Talmudically, next year in Acapulco, then...

The food, I'm afraid, was only average: no beluga. How low millionaires have to stoop, these days. After dinner, I made myself a sandwich, went out, and closed the door behind me.

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