I’m flying off on Wednesday for that royal throne of kings, that sceptred isle,
that earth of majesty, that seat of Mars, that other Eden, demi-paradise, that fortress built by Nature for herself against infection and the hand of war.
Which is to say, England. Where I will be Guest of Honor at EightSquaredCon, this year’s Eastercon, or national convention. Which will be held in the rusting post-industrial hulk of Bradford, the very name of which (I am told) causes English people to break out in savage laughter.
Be that as it may, I’m told Bradford is also the best place in Europe for Indian cuisine. So if you’re in the neighborhood, I hope to see you all over a curry or three.
I hope you’ve packed your wooly underwear, Walter. It’s bloody FREEZING here – the coldest Easter since … oh … the late Triassic!
I’m extremely pissed off because I want to get out and work on my garden – which is currently very cold.
Got to second that, I’m further south and it was 0 degrees celsius again this morning. Also bear in mind that in the UK the probability is higher that we will have a white Easter than a white Christmas 🙂
Ah, speaking of merry old England, I noticed that the king of the English cat burglars, Peter Scott, died last week. A very interesting fellow he was — reminds me rather strongly of Maijstral.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/9949054/Peter-Scott.html
Comments on this entry are closed.