Today’s post is dedicated to the marvelous Mr Watson, who is a great drinking partner when I stay over in Leeds. Monday saw us at the Adelphi, and Thursday at The Palace, both full of character and in central Leeds.
On both occassions we certainly talk on an intellectual basis, and generally discuss current affairs, politics, literature, and strive as proper young men to become more worldly wise and educated.
I am of course talking utter crap. Both nights saw (not mad) us sample a fine selection of real ale, and I bemoaned life and lot on this floating rock in the Milky Way, whinging about the fact that marketing types ought to buy stuff and that is not fun and games when you are the one actually selling; whilst Mr “Shaggy” Watson struggled with his position in life as actually being a lovely thoughtful chap, with the rest of the world thinking he is possibly a journalist gigolo, which is highly amusing to me anyway. Though I somewhat inflamed the rumours with a certain comment in a certain post this week.
Good on Mr Watson for taking a tongue in cheek view to it…
Women