I have been here to the Maybush three times and at each just missed the brief period it has been open for business on a regular basis.  The word at the Black Horse and the Bell (earlier on this run) is that no one can make a go of it because of the flooding of [...]

At the corner of Pavenhil and Dogridge I finally found the Royal George in the midst of my Sunday run but was really disappointed to find that the place appears to, once again, have gone out of business (like the woman at the Angel suggested on my Thanksgiving Day run last year).  A pity. I [...]

When I packed for the run I loaded my flask with bourbon in the event that one of the pubs on my loop were, sadly, shuttered.  This didn’t happen, happily, but upon leaving the third one of the day I was incapable of reading my map and missed a cross-road that would have foreshortened the [...]

Americans, like myself, spent much of the past week playing a macabre version of Six Degrees of Separation…I was loading luggage for a trip to Scotland when the first plane hit, but my closest real connection was my boss’s neighbour who lost his son, daughter-in-law and grandkids to the Pentagon flight.  Very depressing.   {New [...]

The kids got married, Americans were quite embarrassing on tele, and Prince Phillip stayed alert (my bet failed) and as far as we know he didn’t hit on any of the bridesmaids. We went to the Glue Pot for a celebratory drink and found that the topic was off limits…fair enough, we are all sick [...]

Owsley died in a car wreck near his home in Australia a few days ago.  A fan of his work since my first chip of Dead family acid in the early 80′s made the pages and pages of blotter I had swallowed up to that point irrelevant, I mourn his loss as should all of [...]

Addendum:  From Foo’s email to the jHavelina listserv…”BusJobs service will be held on Monday Nov. 15, 2010 at the OLD Ft.Huachuca cemetary on post at 1000.”  I know it will be a suitably large turnout. Received some awful news last night…Bus Job (aka, Doug Kincaid), was found lying in a wash with a head injury [...]

Somewhere in my attic, and I’ll scan it when I find it after the move, I have a Cristmas card scrawled in this pathetic bastard’s crippled scrawl that he sent from Murfreesboro Tennessee in 1984 or 1985, with the above inscription in crayon: As he said to me a few days after a mutual friend [...]