Dec 23, 2008 11:42
It turns out that my cube at ex-work is now a shrine to odd behaviour and the Church of the Subgenius. Given the general level of oddness there, I consider that a great honour.
The Green Dragon Hotel, Hereford, appears to have been perfectly preserved since the mid fifties. I expect doubtful plumbing and cold collation on the menu.
Although it did have a room labelled 'cyber space'. In slanted black-on-gold sticky letters, yet. I trust there is a shop where one may find the roundy-roundy thing1 with the individual letters wobbling on their hooks as you search for the big sticker that depicts a cad in a sharp suit smoking negligently.
Nevertheless, I intend to stay there at some point in the future. The staff are jolly good sorts who can spot a thirsty traveller at some distance: "I've a barrel of Wye Valley in the corner. By the way you were looking at the beer-pumps, I think you might prefer it..."
[1] Pater calls any mechanical device that rotates, which doesn't already have an obvious name (threshing drum, internal combustion engine, turbocharger) a 'hurdy-gurdy'.
effete western ponce,
single-breasted,
scruttock's old dirigible