At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Monday, July 16, 2018


When you hear four cigar-smoking gentlemen discussing how they don't see colour or ethnicity, they judge people entirely on their own merits, for the benefit of a black visitor also smoking a cigar, there are two possible courses of action. One is to step into the lounge and calmly explain to them precisely why, even though three quarters of them are undoubtedly sincere, they sound like they're full of horse feathers.

The other response is to stick one's head in and loudly proclaim that the only logical basis for judging any human is how well marbled they are.

You can probably guess which approach I chose.

I've changed tea recently, and instead of Pu Er at work, I am now drinking a nice green from Hangzhou. It's more or less a Dragon Well, but at a far more reasonable price.
Consequently, I spent the entire day high as a kite on caffeine.

At present, having finished dinner, I am having a cup of coffee, after which the open road beckons. A pipeful of Dunhill Dark Flake in a suitable briar, and a friendly public house just two short blocks away.
Maybe an extra pipe in my coat pocket.
Don't have to work tomorrow.
Need sane people.


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