The pub's a very classy joint. You can tell by the relatively unfinished tables adorned with the craft of local artists.
I'm not too sure about the talents of the artist behind cockfoster, but the duck shows some promise.
I quit smoking on 09/09/09 and miraculously haven't had a drag since. Strangely, though, I really enjoy second-hand cigarette smoke now. When I was a smoker, I hated sitting near a cigarette while it moldered away in an ashtray or having someone's grey cloud waft into my face. Now? I kind of lean into it.
I keep wanting to mention that the people I was sitting with are all five to twenty years older than I. They are, but I'm not sure why it matters.
I'm going through an age crisis at the moment, like I think I've suddenly rolled into straight-out oldness or something, like I'll suddenly become invisible and sag into the background. I'm working toward a grip on reality.
None of my friends have sagged into the background, just to be clear.
One person I know sells antiques, and she managed to pick up what are supposedly recovered first editions of Winnie-the-Pooh books that are worth a goodly sum. Before they were shuttled off to storage, I was given the opportunity to fondle, smell, and covet them. Out of respect, I abstained from rubbing their pages on all over the skin under my shirt.
My friend Rob is a wicked computer code nerd.
He looks like this on the other side of a glass of Guinness:
And then the sunset chased me home,
and the Palinode and I watched Regina's Canada Day fireworks from our balcony.
The fireworks came out tiny in the photograph, but in reality they looked large and fantastic when they were high enough to see over the trees. They nearly moved me to feel patriotic for a moment right before I realized that I'd been drinking and hadn't eaten enough food all day.