General comments

Priti Patel

So a report into the alleged bullying behaviour by the UK immigration secretary Priti Patel has found that she did shout and swear at members of her staff; but it was probably unintentional and she didn’t realize she was doing it.

Which leads on very nicely to the next serial killer who goes on trial and claims that it was unintentional and he didn’t realise he was doing it. And Boris Johnson gives him his ful backing and a full pardon.

Bit of advice to Borris never trust a serial killer and don’t let him know where you live.

Hunters hill open air school

There were four dormitories at the open air school starting from number one which housed thirty of the younger boys and went up in age progressively to number four.

It was the only time in my life that I liked school but it was the people that I met that made me feel that way.

Kenny Holt at fourteen was tall and thin with brilliant sense of humour and was always telling jokes which he struggled to finish without coughing and wheezing partly because he thought they were so funny and partly because he suffered from acute asthma. If it was a bad day his back became arched and his face white from the struggle to get enough air into his lungs.

This was a school that taught the basics of life art, woodwork, cooking, music, it suited my intelligence level which was low. Ken was a natural wood turner and made the most incredible oak bowls and egg cups while I was quite good at making anything that was flat.

We got on quite well and would compare our finished items.

I lost contact with Ken until my dad was taken into hospital which happened quite often but this time he ending up in a hospital that was on the far side of Birmingham.

I was about twenty at that time and went to visit him with three friends the first night he was admitted, We were amazed to find Ken in the next bed, he had suffered a major asthma attack and looked quite ill but we chatted with him for quite a long time and said we would talk to him again the following night.

We never did, on our next visit the bed was empty Ken died that same night he was just twenty. I never forgot the wooden egg cups. and the way he told jokes. and who he was.