And here's the song:
It's only fractured, just a little nervous from the fall.
Beautiful.
Your Ancient Pal,
LSP
And here's the song:
It's only fractured, just a little nervous from the fall.
Beautiful.
Your Ancient Pal,
LSP
Were you part of this? I wasn't, though I know some who were and others again who maybe are still. One of them, an ex-SAS friend in the '90s, in a Porsche, obvs, invited me 'round LL's place, the SF Club in Kensington. Thank you very much.
This is the same man who went 'round our office in South Ken in tears, totally crying. Why? Because Lady Di had died. My Boss, you might say Guv'nor, looked at him and said, "But Roddie, my dear fellow, you're an arms dealer."
Quite,
LSP
Blue needed a flea pill and I needed to go to the range for remedial off-hand rifle practice. But how could two such very different goals meet as one? Easy, the vet's on the way to the range. So, yummy pill administered, off we went to the shooting gallery. Straight shot, as it were.
To be honest, I hadn't been there in some time, mostly because of the ammo shortage and because I've been able to shoot at JF's setup, which is far more awesome. Still, I like this little 100 yard shoot 'em up. Just you, the guns and the big Texan sky.
Blue liked it too, big time, and grinned away as I let a couple of steel turkeys know who was boss with a gas gun, aka deadly assault rifle. Take that, steel enemy. Then, after searching the shooting house for precious brass, we headed back to the Compound via a dolla cheeseburger at McDonalds. Yum, if nothing like a hamburger.
That last bit's tradition. Love it, like it, scorn it, whatever, it's just the way it is. And I tell you this, readers, it felt good to get out in the clean country air of Texas and shoot. Blue agreed, as you can see.
Gun rights,
LSP