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bear by san

March 2017



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phil ochs troubador

I met the loffliest pub cat today.

After twelve hours mostly on the couch, being a lap for poor neglected Abby and nursing my cold, I decided I needed exercise, fresh air, and something to eat besides cheese or apples. So I hiked down to the local pub, which is a bit over a mile away. The air was pleasantly raw; the sky was grey, variegated, translucent, the light through it like textured obsidian. Halfway there, it started to rain pinhead hail, not even hard enough to deserve the overhanging branches, heavy with wet flowers.

I ordered a cider and the steak and mushroom pie, and got enough food for three people. And gained the attention of Cocoa, a beautiful jet-black, elf-faced semi-longhair with the silkiest coat I have ever touched, sleek over a whipcord body. I love a country where I can have dinner in front of a coal fire, on a cracked leather sofa with a black cat sprawled along the arm.

Lovely cat.

I'd have tucked him under my jacket if I could have figured out how to get him home.


Dress him up in funny clothes and tell the airline he's your son!
Awesome. I live a stones throw away from that kind of area, just inside the M25, but sadly it's more Londonified than country round here.

I love it whenever I head west though! There should be more country pubs in the world!
Cider is a Goddess-send; I'm on my second pint at present :) And brava for kitties -- they make life so wonderful! I spent the afternoon with an adorable family of Norwegian Forest Cats and fell for a silver-tabby-and-white boy :)


My companions on a boating trip in Florida laughed because one night there were cat paw prints on the boat around the hatch to where I was sleeping, and I had been petting the cat of the docks the day before.

There was a cat at the Duke of Marlboro Hotel in NZ, and one on the beach of Cozumel by a little restaurant.

Perhaps there should be a CatTravelogue anthology. :g:
Which local pub over a mile away? Is the Tollhouse that far? ;)

Btw, there should be some Lemsips at home -- possibly somewhere by the kettl or the breadmaker on the kitchen counter or in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom or with the teas in the kitchen. I do recommend Lemsips a lot as cold medicine.
I have some in my bag, but I will scrounge the house for more if the sneezing persists.

I walked down to the Tripp, which I would guestimate at a mile and a quarter.
Oh, the Thomas Tripp? Is anyone in there these days? Often, you go by it and it's empty. :(

I've never gauged the mileage. I know it's a 15-minute walk! :)
There were about a half dozen people before I got there, and a couple more drifted in while I was eating. But it was Sunday night.

The food was halfway decent to good (the veg were spectacular; the steak a bit gristly), lots, and quite cheerfully served.

Also, pub cats!

I guesstimated a mile and a quarter because I figured it was about a twenty-minute walk, and also there was the sign that said "Lymington, one mile" just after the roundabout. *g*

Abby says she misses you. Ezra says he is running away to Bristol as soon as he finds his kerchief and a stick. They send their love.
Bristol? I would have thought he'd be going to Clovelly instead to become master of all the cats there. ;)

You know, we've never been to the Tripp -- it always just looks so deserted. It's under new(er) management now, though, so maybe it's better.

Oh, and just fly him home. No quarantine where you're going! ;)
Country pubs are a wonderful thing. It hailed here yesterday and then began to snow. Fod God's sake.
I want to be there!

My best dinner in Britain was up in Scotland on the Isle of Mull, with someone's muddy sheep dog tucked happily up underneath our table in a tiny pub next to a coal fire.

I admit I think it takes a while for me to get used to that smell, though. Not the dog. The coal.
Blackthorn! (No, wait, never mind. Strongbow. ;-) ).
Haven't had Blackthorn. Is cider?
Yup. Strongbow is smoother and a little bit sweeter.
Will try Blackthorn, then. Like Strongbow. New palatte is nice to explore. Bevmo has all! Hail the mighty Bevmo!
Magner's, dammit.
Oh, Bear. Open mind! Accept the unacceptible! Be one with your inner irasciblility! There are many bad alcohols in the world, and many good ones. If the rest of us drink the bad ones, that leaves more good for you. Don't hate the alcoholic, hate the alcohol. I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a drunk. Alcoholics go to meetings.


Man, you so wish you had been with me today. *g* Writing it up now.
I'm saving all these travelogues so I can publish on the sly the New Improved Bear's Guide to the British Isles and Sacred Reliquary Resting Places of the Bones of Kit Marlowe & Co., and Snarky Commentary on Things the Docents Just Do Not Understand and Are Not Qualified to Speak On, Including that Hero and Great Fellow Mstr. Wllm Shakespeare of Stratford Upon Mary Kay, et al., etc.

Ug, no. *Good* cider. Not anything that can be bought in two liter plastic botles.