The joys of conferencing

Ordinarily there are none, I know, but for a conference virgin such as myself, the one I've just returned from was a pretty painless introduction to "the circuit". Held over two days at one of the swankiest hotels in Rome, where the chandeliers are made from Murano glass and the toileteries are designed by Hermès, it was definitely an eye-opener. The only downside to the whole experience was that I was forced to miss out on the festivities surrounding the 120th anniversary of New Humanist magazine here in London as a result. At a masonic lodge, no less! Grrr. Still, fortunately Deaglan was there to reprazent, and he has posted a brief review of the evening here.

As an aside, can I just say that a hulking great German tourist wearing a black t-shirt with the words "Pygmy Love Circus" scrawled across the back provided what was undoubtedly the undoubtedly the highlight of my trip, in terms of pure unscripted comedy vignettes. Well, don't they always? This one in particular was a prize catch, and dumb as a box of hammers. In the confined environs of the replacement coach from Stansted back to Liverpool Street last night, this was made doubly clear, resulting in much mirth for everyone else on the bus. I won't write it all down here, as it's not really all that relevant, but if you want to know what happened, let me know and I'll put it in the comments. It's a day later and I'm still laughing about it.

Oh, and the best "Vice Don't" find in Rome: Man in early 20s on Spanish Steps, wearing a tight pair of frayed stonewashed jeans, with a stitched-on cutout on one leg of... a tight pair of frayed stonewashed jeans. Score!