So, Chris “Chris” Williams, J. Carter Wood, and I met up in London to attend the aftermath of this ORG event. A good time was had, even though we didn’t find Charlie or Cory at the Three Kings; we heard of how I made an epic fool of myself in Berlin, how policemen are exported, an uncharacteristic moment of feminism at the Daily Express in the 1920s, British advisors to South Vietnam, and Chris’s vow to avoid sit-ins until his kids have grown up. The crowd was unusual; a mixture of tall and skinny fashion-twits and politicised computer-folk. Which is roughly what it’s like in my head, I suppose.
Damn, I didn’t know you were going to be there. (The pub was so stowed out by the time we got there that self plus friends headed elsewhere rapidly.) Next time, ping me and swap phone numbers. OK?