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Cobbett’s Christmas Stash
Stephen was making one of his “boomerang” trips, a quick dash across the pond to satisfy the powers that be that he was in correct standing vis-à-vis his visa. So with a week in Dorking and Bristol to kill, he needed at least one errand–besides picking up the Christmas pudding and the mincemeat for our…
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Holy Night In Dorking
For a slow-motion car crash of reasons, I ended up solo on a Christmas Eve in the market town of Surrey called Dorking. Like many English place names, this one grows on you, and has certainly since grown on me after a night that could have been one of my loneliest—but, because of the kindness…
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My First Punk
We wheeled up the high street from the car park, and into the little lodge in a nondescript town north of London—not quite Cambridge but nearly there. We stashed our bags upstairs after the proprietor/barman showed us the secret door to the lodgings. The pub on the street felt bright and airy—a cheerful place to…