Debris
«chaque notaire porte en soi les débris d’un poète.»Archive for travel
Long ago it must be, I have a photograph
While rummaging through my box of memories, I found my “Certificate of Registration” from when I lived in England as a graduate student. Under the Immigration Act of 1971, I was required to carry this certificate (really a passport-sized booklet) with me at all times, and produce it on demand by any police or immigration officer. I don’t recall ever being asked to produce it except at the airport when entering the country.
What is especially striking (apart from the amusing fact that the officer who registered me was named “David Hume”) is how utterly old-fashioned the document is. All the information was entered by hand or with a rubber stamp. The photograph is affixed with staples. It looks as though it could just as easily date from 1934 as 1984. No doubt the contemporary equivalent is a small plastic card with a magnetic strip. I can’t imagine that such a thing would stir such memories as this old paper relic.
Intact Brain
Muddy Waters Coffee Shop, State Highway 61, Charleston, SC
We saw the band setting up, but unfortunately didn’t have time to hear them play. Young Alfie loved the paintings. And the coffee and snacks were very good.
Not as kinky as it sounds
Though the name suggests some type of “naughty Victorian” establishment, this shop in Arlington, Virginia merely sells drapes and related items.
Southern Inn Restaurant
I had a very delicious dinner — trout with roasted pepper polenta and deep fried carrots — at this restaurant during my recent visit to Lexington, Virginia. But I didn’t park in the rear.
Why do they call themselves the “Odd Fellows” anyway?
Odd Fellows Hall, Lexington, Virginia
For the birds
I’d seen this poster in various places around San Francisco, and thought it was a whimsical prank. But it turns out to be a viral marketing campaign for hands-free mobile phone equipment (now mandated by California law).
