Get Back

 

There it was, the urban glory of WC1, and then the nightmare that is Heathrow's Terminal Three. This used to be vaguely congenial, I recall, but presents itself now as some kind of psychotic night club in a bus station sponsored by Hermes, Gucci and Tissot. 

Nightmare? Yes, but word to the wise, you can buy an airplane book at WH Smiths and a surprisingly cheap sandwich at the Boots pharmacy franchise for £1.50. I bought several, along with Nial Gaiman's Neverwhere and headed through the madding crowd to Gate 36.

The sandwiches were tasty, bizarrely, Neverwhere entertaining and the flight easy and fast, getting into DFW an hour early. What can I say, an exception which proved the rule. And then touchdown on the DFW runway and there we were, home. A taxi ride later I was back in the sylvan idyll of Winnetka Heights, Dallas, and a warm welcome from Ma LSP, "Champagne?" Most assuredly yes.

So that was that, a successful recce patrol across the Atlantic and back to Texas, safe and sound. Lessons learned? Don't lose your phone and bank card after carousing at the jolly old NatLib, do go to Mass at the excellent St. Peter's London Docks and while you're at it, spare a thought for Turner's Old Star 'round the corner from the church, well worth the visit.

In other news, CONUS is being attacked by balloons in a vicious act of asymmetrical warfare, the Scottish National Party (SNP) is in tranny turmoil and the dear old Church of England's gone even gayer than it was already, which is saying something.

Get back,

LSP

Edinburgh Rambling

 

You see, the thing about Edinburgh is that it's this great little town, country but ritzy with it. And I tell you, more restaurants than you can shake a stick at. But that's as maybe, go exploring and see what the town's really about.

About passages or alleyways, apparently, which they call "closes," and their terminus in "courts."  Now we know and so do you if you go off the beaten path in Edinburgh's Old Town. This, by the way, was a right medieval warren of a place back in the day. 

It's less so now, perhaps on account of Old Town's Quality moving to New Town in the 18th C. This, readers, is perhaps the finest Georgian set of buildings anywhere on the planet and, to be fair, it is beautiful if windswept.

In related news, many witches were burned here and some Scots MP wants them pardoned. A barrister pal questions this, "Should Major Weir be pardoned?" Good question, eh? Well, he's waiting for an answer. In the meanwhile, the venerable if shrinking COE's gone pretty much full gay. 

Good luck with that, 

LSP