ok, so I won't dress it up - the soprano's thing was a non-event. I spent the evening reading a book at home. The restaurant was restricted to friend's of the owner. Furthermore, Ms. V spent the evening waiting tables upstairs and so doesn't have any scintillating stories. However, there was an enormous man in the kitchen with an entourage of fawning bus boys. "Hey there, wadj-ya-doin?" said the indigenous giant, "Ai'm fine," she said and tootled past looking for her boss.

However earlier in the day, I was chaffuered to the true heartland of NJ - the near endless stripmall on some kind of main road (maybe an 'I-something'). I've seen strip malls before and they don't hold me in soulless fear quite like they used to, in no small part because of the UK's enthusiastic adoption of US car culture and the migratory patterns of its out-of-town shopping victims. However, the interesting thing is not the malls but that the NJ road system was designed by a committee of non-drivers with symptoms of any number of peculiar and elaborate psychoses.

The favoured site for these mendacious town planners is the junction - where else can such havoc be wreaked so economically than by introducing two or three streams of traffic unexpectedly to each other? Specifically having junctions which form an surprising lattic formation as filters off interstates where one lane of traffic is building speed to get onto the interstate and another travelling fast and trying to leave the road without obstructing the flow. All you have to do is to cross these two streams ('don't cross the streams...') and, garnish with abundant foliage so that no driver could possibly judge the best course of action, nor even see the other cars - without premonition - and you have a cracking road/life expectancy event.

The Right Honourable Mr. Andrew Eason (for Upton East) sent me this elaborate missive. Mostly I think that he's reminding me that he suggested that I start a blog, I think.

Due to its truly singular nature I will quote the mail in full:

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To the New World, Her Majesty's representative in the Matter of the Limp Cheetahs sends herewith GREETING;

It being this twenty-fifth day of August Anno Domini Two Thousand and Four, and the Moon being in her eighth Cycle, the Man or Serendipitous Occurance known hereinafter as the Knave Atkinson, did wilfully Pack his Encumbrances and hurtle Westwards across the perilous Depths of the Atlantic Ocean. His abandoned friends, knowing the Exuberant Protuberance (him, again, the Doubtful Knight of Penwortham) to be a creature of joyful turmoil, duly expect frenzied missives extolling the Prime Virtues of Jersey Coffee and pictures of himself and his Good Lady (She of the Glamorous and Costly Swimwear) disporting themselves to the general delight of the American Populace, in a selection of guises and happenstance constellations of whimsy and excitement.

With this communication, Her Majesty desires me to impress upon all you who read this, the ultimate Importance she attaches to descriptions of the manners,
customs, etc of the Atlantean Denizens so that She might be informed and empowered to establish Colonies and Trading Posts, should it become Her wish to act in this branch of her mighty Realm.

WHEREAS the Animated Sackcloth of Earnings is concerned, it is appreciated by ALL PARTIES that the need for establishing convivial relationships with one's co-workers (hereinafter referred to as the Phosphorescent Dukes of Montclair) is an exacting and onerous duty which will of necessity take precedence over other matters. Be it remembered, however, that the Fund of Anecdote is a Seasonal Water and it is best to have the memory Primed by epistolary activity resulting in the laying-down of velocity-currents whereby the Fluid Electricity of thought can more readily be transcribed across the Etheric Tunnel of the Intercollision-web.

Opaquely yours,

Andre, Duc De Balon.

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I protested that I wouldn't have to write about but then this little jem dropped out of ms. vicars mouth and I began to think that I may be wrong:
"Guess who's coming to the restaurant on friday?"
"um, I don't know." (absolutely true)
"The Sopranos cast!"

A quintessential joisey experince, no? So, I think I know where I may be lurking on friday...