GREEN SPECKLED

None of the disgusting fellows in the back came in costumed or naked. Very disappointing. Neither did the members of the pipe club. Which disappointed me, as I'm always in favour of theatre, drama, and embarrassing decisions by other people. I myself naturally don't do any of that stuff. Which is why I do not own any extrovertly bad taste briars, and don't have to brazen it out. Good pipes, good tobacco. Sound decisions.

And of course pâté. A sufficiency of. So from my point of view, in that regard the pipe club meeting was a splendid success. And both Neil and Bernard were there. Neil has been a bit poorly of late, and Bernard is often travelling in ghastly parts of the world as well as exotic refugee camps. So it was almost miraculous to have both of them present.

Nick was also there. He has been described variously as an elderly hobbit, the troll under to bridge, and an impossibly hot hot hot old fellow why heavens I need to stick my tongue in his ear! That young lady got thrown out of the bar minutes later, by the way. I ascribe her passion to the fine tobacco he was smoking at the time. Virginias, touch of perique. I smoke very similar blends, but so far I have not aroused any reactions of that type.
Possibly my ears aren't sexy enough.
I am not alone in that flaw.
Nick is unique.


The experience did not leave any lasting trauma.

All active members were present. In addition to meaty products there was single malt Scotch. Myself, I was high as a kite on caffeine, having been drinking tea since I got in hours earlier.

Let me also clarify, even though it probably hasn't even crossed your mind, that none of us in the pipe club is a beastly old fart. We are all young and vibrant. Including the three gentlemen previously mentioned, who are all retired.


And despite liking them, it is a jolly good thing that none of them ran the Bay to Breakers. also, if they were to hypthetically in fits of insanity do so, they would be wearing sensible clothes. The very first picture of the race I saw today featured two untrim middle aged dudes in the buff, seen from behind. One of them has a back tattoo all the way down to the sunset. Now I am severely traumatized.

No one in the building was dressed in any way that might raise an eyebrow. Well, other than Bill snoring in the back room, wearing shorts and exposing his rather educational legs. But we're used to that. It is Marin, after all. And high seventies.

I asked one of the members to be sure to bring along the Charatan with the horribly green-speckled mouthpiece which I had seen at the previous meeting. It needs a bit of buffing.
He had smoked it outside during inclement weather.
So it's quite oxidized.




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