Since it is impossible to apologise for someone else, I cannot actually offer my apologies to the poor sods in the Oxford crew that just saw 7 months of their lives wasted because of the antics of an Australian moron.

In case the said Australian moron ever reads these pages, however, I would like to point out that, speaking as an alumnus of St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge University, the place is about as elitist as a packet of crisps. My class at a very-definitely-State school managed to produce one guy who did Geology at Oxford; one who did Mathematics at Cambridge; and yours truly, who managed History at Cambridge… and that was just my class, in one year, at a very ordinary, council-funded school. I know my father was lucky enough to earn £16 a week, courtesy of British Rail, at the time; I doubt any of my classmates’ fathers would have earned a whole lot more.

I’m not sure if the annoying tit from down-under was really complaining about the elitism of elite sport (a bit like complaining about the cakey-ness of a Victoria Sandwich if so), but if he was attempting to make a point about the anti-working class prejudices shown by the top Universities in England, then all I can say is that he’s about 50 years behind the times.

Still, since he apparently graduated from the London School of Economics, I suppose it’s a bit ambitious to expect him to retain a grasp on reality or to appreciate a fact when it is staring him in the face.

That said, naturally the better rowing team won. But I wish the chaos created by a selfish twit had neither occasioned nor assisted it.

Moody Food

Since I am quite likely to pass the milestone on the train tomorrow morning, I thought I’d commemorate ‘nearly’ getting there ahead of time:

Forty thousand pieces of music in 4 and a bit years… who’d have thought?!