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[30 Jun 2011|10:17pm] |
There's something in the water in Yemen. And I don't mean that in any sort of stupid metaphorical sense. There is actually something in the water that makes it bloody impossible to clean the local mud off just about anything. I think it's magical. I've Tergeoed these twice, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to throw them away.
( Spell-o-taped photo. )
Fortunately, there's also something about mucking around in the dust and the rubble that makes a man feel a little more free than he might be able to do in the press of London life. I think I've decided to make a very important change.
( Spell-o-taped photo )
I think it's an improvement. Rugged, what?
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[30 May 2011|04:39pm] |
I've found a club I rather like in Curzon Street - armchairs, wainscoting and all that, and, of course, fireplaces for our fair city's glorious fifteen degree spring days. I've never been much of a cigar man, but they've turned me onto them, and I believe I'm developing a taste. It's a better place to sit and read than I've found yet. Chaps here don't bother you about things if you don't want to talk, and there's no bally music.
My father introduced me when he was in town yesterday. He said it's built on the same ground where the Duke of Chandlos bought his second wife back in 1744, but that is the sort of thing he'd say.
I'm sitting here now, actually. I think I'll be up for something a touch noisier and more vodka-oriented once the evening comes around, if anyone knows anywhere tolerable.
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[28 Apr 2011|01:45pm] |
I had been thinking of getting a tattoo before I left for my last job, but I'm glad I waited - I've come back from the Med with a tan that it would be a crime to mark up. They usually end up making people look cheap anyway, I think, although I've seen a couple decent ones. Then there's the problem of trying to think of something worth sticking with for however many years you've got left. (And really, what sticks around? You've only got to go to Salerno to realize how something that was once magnificent can be reduced to something of a provincial pit. I tried to brush up on my Italian there, but the locals ... it's like trying to learn French in Canada. Why bother?) Altogether too much trouble.
I see Portree's taken a nice nosedive. I'll admit I hadn't been paying much attention, but that's probably just as well. I don't know what's more embarrassing - losing to Appleby, or to Falmouth.
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[27 Mar 2011|10:42am] |
Saying fare thee well to London isn't so awful when you don't have to ship out to the frozen wilderness in a country where you can't even read the road signs. I'll admit, after my last assignment I was hoping for an extra long vacation, or at least to be sent somewhere with a few home comforts. We left India with a more or less civilized appreciation for tea and government and trousers before being given the bum rush, after all; if I've got to go somewhere with jungle, I mean to say, it might as well be there.
Luckily, all my worrying was for nothing, and I had a rare pleasant surprise at Gringotts when I went to get my marching orders this week. So I'm off to a country with actual roads, a bloody brilliant climate, and wine that's made out of grapes. Imagine that. I think I'll take a few days alone on the Med, too. I've got about five books that want finishing.
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[22 Feb 2011|08:27pm] |
Now that I've slept for a solid week, I guess I have no choice but to face the facts; it's still February. At least it's February in London, which is better than spending it in some enchanted fucking forest. Trust me - they're not all they're cracked up to be. It's much easier here to get a drink that doesn't taste of rice vinegar. If anyone wants to know how I stopped three Banshees from terrorizing a nearby Muggle neighborhood, slipped out right from under the nose of an enraged dragon and saved untold tons of treasure from a mob of advancing goblins, I think I'm ready to get back into the swing of good old dry martinis.
It's been a pain missing the preseason. Hopefully I'll be allowed to lounge around here long enough to take in the first few games, at least. I think the only good one I'm missing tickets to is the Falcons and the Arrows. If anyone's got a seat, I've got a bunch of goblin gold.
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[24 Jan 2011|12:37pm] |
Sometimes coming back to London after a few weeks away is a vast improvement - you wouldn't believe how many places there are in the world where no one at all can make a decent pot of coffee, or where the mere suggestion of a bacon sandwich will get you glared out of a cafe. Of course, Tripoli has its upsides, particularly in January. It's so damned dreary here. I feel like I ought to be hibernating, or something. I would, too, if I hadn't run out of things to read; I could just make the usual run to F&B, and then come back and lock myself in for the winter.
Better not, though. I've got a few weeks before I get packed off the Merlin knows where, so instead of spending it buried under a blanket, I may as well make the best of it. I haven't seen most of you since before Christmas, I know - does anyone want a drink? Something warm, and something on the Floo. I'm not venturing out into this weather for anything. I've still got sand in my shoes - I'd probably die of the shock.
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