LONDON – Sunday was a day of such unalloyed pleasure that it nearly impossible to write about on the Internet, which by law and custom may serve only a receptacle for rants, gripes, and demands for improvement. Accordingly, I will strive valiantly to reframe its events as a series of complaints:
- certain portions of traditional greasy spoon Sunday breakfast prematurely served, to temporary consternation
- Pelgrane summit portion of day mooted too many exciting new projects to keep in head at one time
- impending tube strike cozily winnowed number of attendees at post-Dragonmeet pub meet, holding out promise that quality interaction time could be secured with all present. However regulars from other years who shall not be named were nonetheless sadly missed. (You know, for example, who you are, cricket-explaing Scotsman.)
- teasing Graham becomes marginally less amusing when Graham not present
- evening meal involved oysters, splendidly prepared beef, cakey wine, and the identity-threatening discovery that I do not dislike smoked salmon, but in fact dislike only mediocre smoked salmon. [@@@--placeholder: devise and insert complaint here]
There we go. Action item completed. Threat to Internet stability averted.