The Greatest Pub Yet and Musings

Sepia makes things look much cooler. Tower Bridge. Not falling down.

We had an adventure! Thanks to the Beeradvocate.com, we set our mission toward Parson's Green, in search of a pub called The White Horse. We found it. It was brilliant. Had a huge array of beers from the Isles on tap and then a bottled beer menu that strode through the continent, pausing for extended holiday in Belgium. The place was crowded, filled with various degrees of buggers. But they were great buggers, all so willing to talk about beer and music (don't tell the British you like Oasis, especially if you're not someone who likes Oasis -- it makes them suspicious of you as an citizen of this world. Belle & Sebastian's good for them.) and women. And the more you talk, the more you can prove that it requires a great deal of work in order to slur your words, the more they set upon making you slur. The group of four hipsters from Wimbledon bought me three beers -- a Chimay, a Duvel and an Anchor Liberty (representing the greatest beer-brewing nations in the world). Fantastic! And another guy sitting with one of the members of our entourage mentioned that we may be able to work at a beer festival in the area. Bang-up!

Today's panoramic trip through London (sponsored by Boston University) coursed all through the city. We stopped at the Tower of London, where traitors were killed. Very cool. I'll include pictures all week. Promise.

And our balcony possesses a power splendid for the breeding and collection of thought. It's quiet in South Kensington -- money keeps the volume subdued. In a time when everything races, the balcony's a luxury. Well, so is the entire flat itself. But I guess that's why I'm writing all of this. To capture moments, or at least try to equate some shade of the brilliant vision that accompanies being young and carried away. So, I apologize for being maudlin.