After tuition (a bit thin on the ground at this time of the year, I’m afraid) I decided yesterday to wander up to Oxford Street, not having been there for quite a time. I dropped into The Shift but saw no-one I really knew, and of the few I did no-one I really wanted to talk to. I did see someone that could have been Adrian, though I have never met Adrian in the flesh; but I was probably wrong. (No, they don’t all look the same. I am sure it wasn’t M, who is after all in Argentina right now, nor was it the Fujian lad I had just been tutoring.) Time was around 5.30 pm.
So I walked further and encountered Bandjalung artist Andy, whom I had not seen since Lord Malcolm’s memorial service last year, sitting with a couple of others outside The Stonewall — reviews there, but not their website which killed my IE7 and is the object of malware warnings from Google and Finjian. So I sat down with him for a while, and then we went on to The Flinders. Good conversation, and only three beers. (I am more and more a very moderate drinker. My last visit to the pub was with The Rabbit a couple of weeks ago, and I hardly ever drink at home.)
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