- been shopping with Laurie and Jeff on Regent Street in London on Sunday (we ate lunch at a pub called Shakespeare’s Head, which features witty Elizabethan sayings on the walls like “Having a hairy chest does not make you a porn star”),
- had dinner and then a pint with Meg on Sunday night,
- spent all day in the BL on Monday, joining Scott, Shelley, and Meg for lunch,
- trained up to Oxford on Tuesday to look at some things in the Bodleian, where the bathroom graffiti announces that “This place is full of scary old men and scary old books” (mad props* to Ian for making my trip to the town and to the library so effortless),
- spent the night at Ian’s and Fiona’s.
And finally, today I took the train to Manchester, where I am currently posting from an Internet cafe. I have some good pix to post, but wireless access for my laptop is uncertain, so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to share them. The plan is to take it easy today, do some grocery shopping, maybe catch a movie, and then hit the ground running tomorrow at the MARC.
*I’m so hip, aren’t I?
Scott, Shelley, and I had lunch again today, in which the topic of the Shakepeare’s Head (that “the” is important here) came up. She: the food’s good; He: yabbut it’s a chain!
Somehow I have missed out on the phenomenon that is the Bard’s Noggin (to follow the English, or at least Oxbridgian, tradition of synonymizing all the pubs).
I trust that the journey up to Madchester was straightforward and uneventful (in a good way). Many thanks for all the music – and for the new phrase…
The food at Shakespeare’s Head (it’s funnier if you drop the “the,” Meg) is okay: quite servicable pub food. I didn’t know that it’s a chain, though.
The journy here was just fine, red, and I was quite happy to exchange some music with you. I realized, however, that I should have given you the Beatles’ Help and White Album. Ah, well. Perhaps I’ll stick a CD in the mail.
Oh, I wasn’t dinging *you* for the article. You know how geeks are; we’re just as likely to be talking about Renaissance phrenology as pub grub.
You missed a good lunch today, though — we (for a different set of “we”: /S/Shelley/Jenn/) were talking about 18C depravity!
I could do with a little depravity right now, but all I got is these damned psalms.