Fancy Pants
Well, last night was formal “Guest Night.” I had no guests to invite. . .weep, weep. But I did get to play dress-me-ups. 
The food was quite spectacular and the wines quite nice. I particularly enjoyed the company of several junior fellows; we talked a good deal about American soccer as tragicomedy.
At dessert (which means cheese and fruit but mostly PORT), I had a fascinating conversation–more of a listen actually–with a mathematician; I think I understood what he was saying most of the time, though it may have been the port.
The food was quite spectacular and the wines quite nice. I particularly enjoyed the company of several junior fellows; we talked a good deal about American soccer as tragicomedy.
At dessert (which means cheese and fruit but mostly PORT), I had a fascinating conversation–more of a listen actually–with a mathematician; I think I understood what he was saying most of the time, though it may have been the port.
posted by Bill Quinn | 5:24 AM
2 Comments:
You do look spiffy!
My old school pal Peggy Maddox tells me you've received a 1-year literary sentence to Cambridge-in-the-fen. Myself, I've survived a fairly recent seven-year stint in Peterborough, but am now back up north, near the hills. (Formerly an Ozark child, but I've been over here for 41 years.) I've just had an enjoyable read of your very sympathetic blogginses; if you'd like to get in touch, you could text 0771-431-1074.
Best wishes,
Daniel King
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