(no subject)

I am delaying my birthday bash (if you can call it a bash)a week or so, so that I can email out a few people to see if they want to come along, seeing that only the ever-lovely caffeine_fairy and bibliogirl responded to the post.

It will probably be at the Café Sol since I have to report with great sadness, the passing of the Oasis which has now transformed into an establishment under the dubious name of Rinky-Dink (we think...)which has far too many little cuboid pouffé chairs (there must be a proper name for them, but it eludes me)arranged around back-breakingly low tables. The decorative motif is that shade of mauve that people call pink and makes the rest of us wonder if we've gone colour blind.

There appears to be a cocktail bar at the rear, but no sign of limitless crispy duck which was the entire raison d'etre of the Oasis.

The bottom has fallen out of the Clapham crispy duck market since DT moved north of the river, I fear.

(no subject)

I am delaying my birthday bash (if you can call it a bash)a week or so, so that I can email out a few people to see if they want to come along, seeing that only the ever-lovely caffeine_fairy and bibliogirl responded to the post.

It will probably be at the Café Sol since I have to report with great sadness, the passing of the Oasis which has now transformed into an establishment under the dubious name of Rinky-Dink (we think...)which has far too many little cuboid pouffé chairs (there must be a proper name for them, but it eludes me)arranged around back-breakingly low tables. The decorative motif is that shade of mauve that people call pink and makes the rest of us wonder if we've gone colour blind.

There appears to be a cocktail bar at the rear, but no sign of limitless crispy duck which was the entire raison d'etre of the Oasis.

The bottom has fallen out of the Clapham crispy duck market since DT moved north of the river, I fear.

Von Bryan's Express

I have decided to go mad for a while. To relieve the stress of my modern urban existence, you see.

I have started already. A couple of days ago, thanks to romney, I acquired a copy of the Concise Times World Atlas for a mere £15 (normal retail £60 at all good bookstores now). It's a long time since I had a decent atlas, and this one is just groovy, thanks very much.

I spent a happy half hour leafing through the pages and deciding which countries I wanted and which are rubbish and can safely be left to their own devices. It turns out that I want most of them except, of course, France.

I find it really helps the mood if yopu trace your fingers across the map whilst humming the Volga Boat Song and imagining the grerat clouds of dust raised by squadron after squadron of advancing tanks.

I have decided that in addition to France, I don't want most of Siberia or any of Mongolia. Nothing but vast, desolate plains in the north, and inhospitable, dusty hills in the south inhabited by little more than the odd yak going 'moo' you see.

Fear not, for I am a good and kindly ruler.

PS:

If any of you, my dear readers, fancy a place of your own, I shall be in need of a number of Viceroys since even I can't keep an eye on all my overseas posessions all at once.

First come first served, of course.

Von Bryan's Express

I have decided to go mad for a while. To relieve the stress of my modern urban existence, you see.

I have started already. A couple of days ago, thanks to romney, I acquired a copy of the Concise Times World Atlas for a mere £15 (normal retail £60 at all good bookstores now). It's a long time since I had a decent atlas, and this one is just groovy, thanks very much.

I spent a happy half hour leafing through the pages and deciding which countries I wanted and which are rubbish and can safely be left to their own devices. It turns out that I want most of them except, of course, France.

I find it really helps the mood if yopu trace your fingers across the map whilst humming the Volga Boat Song and imagining the grerat clouds of dust raised by squadron after squadron of advancing tanks.

I have decided that in addition to France, I don't want most of Siberia or any of Mongolia. Nothing but vast, desolate plains in the north, and inhospitable, dusty hills in the south inhabited by little more than the odd yak going 'moo' you see.

Fear not, for I am a good and kindly ruler.

PS:

If any of you, my dear readers, fancy a place of your own, I shall be in need of a number of Viceroys since even I can't keep an eye on all my overseas posessions all at once.

First come first served, of course.