23 May 2007
Mary Jackson
What happened to the other prints? Which restaurant was it? There's is a very nice one there which was called Lola's until recently. (I've no idea what was there in the late seventies as I was in Bolton and hadn't even heard of Islington.)
Islington would not be trendy when you were there, which is just as well as the very word annoys you. It got t****y in the late 80s and 90s (not the bit where I live) and is now fiendishly expensive.
One pound six? Are you sure it wasn't �1.05 or �1.60?
The UK�went decimal in 1971. However, shillings were in circulation, and were the same size and value as 5 pence pieces. Decimalisation was superbly managed and was in every way a Good Thing.
(Not that tolfraedic twaddle again. If you can refute my argument here - basically that our pound, being twenty shillings not twenty-four, contained the seeds of its own decimalisation, and, more importantly, that inflation would have made those old pennies irrrelevant - I will be delighted and astonished to learn how. An old penny would be worth about two thirds of one of your cents.)
23 May 2007
Mary Jackson
And we call them laundrettes not laundromats, as in the film My Beautiful Laundrette (screenplay by Hanif Kureishi).
Fortunately I've not had to use laundrettes much since I've lived in London. Not only do your clothes never dry, but they can get nicked if you don't watch them, and everyone looks very depressed.
I once saw a laundrette called Laundrorama. That's not nice.
23 May 2007
Reactionry
Hugh is clearly in a League of Nations (which snubbed Ethiopia and its starving, bony people, as noted by boney Prince Haile Auhnleiklie) of his own, given that I only half-way (walking out only that far mit die mischling, Dorothy Parker and also Robert Morley -oops- there are two kinds of Roberts; give that a Benchley mark) got the continental drift (or shelf, if you like Larkin) of Boney Prince Charly as in that French favorite, Flowers For Alger, Non? or as in that dangerous book for boys put out by the Young Pioneers ( I had to Hunt For the globe-covering tentacles of the Jewish Little Red Octobris), The Horatio Alger Hiss Story. Or was it Horatio at the Bridge (or is it the ethanol talking -of the Bridge of Fossil Fuels or Sy's last Hershie or the Nestle product which nestles amid the hollows of hilly velvet in the shop of Martin Martinich in Rush Limbaugh Spoken Here?) or perhaps Osama Bin Laden's "tragedy of Andalusia", The Moor's Last Sigh?** -As in boney Prince Boabdil of Granada -or was it the "duckhead", Boabbill?
Also recalled is the cumberbund which girdled Bullwinkle the Mooselimb (a hat tip or Swedish Stamp Act is due Paul B. here) as it nestled below his embonpoint when he attempted to sing an opera "in the key of E", causing his shirt to roll up like the sidewalks of Frostbite Falls, Minnesota after dark. Which opera? It might have been Boris Badenov, co-starring Natasha Fatale, or, though it displeased the purists in its casting of Rocky The Flying Squirrel, Die Fledermaus. At one point Boris and Natasha were in the same restaurant as Sally Bowles and Brian Roberts and the unfortunate Mr. Creosote who fared less well than Robert Morley after a waiter, the defrocked Father Kelly (another hat tip to Paul), convinced him to ingest a communion wafer-thin after dinner mint.
I could continue to fill you up with the faults I have and add some extra just for you, Gentle Readers, but I shouldn't. (Here hearing the voice of Mary Jackson* saying, "You are not wrong.")
*Recalling the movie, Yellowbeard, I'll bet that she, little pre-pubescent boy struggling to get out notwithstanding, has "a cute 'earring".
**Shoulda' cited Salmon, but this was Rushdied into print.
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