I am going to be honest with you: I am not a golf girlie. I wish I was! The outfits? So chic. The greens? Impeccable. The clubhouse quesadillas? Divine. But the one time I played nine holes, I got yelled at by some lady who was late for her poetry reading because I was going too slowly.
The Economist is a venerable British “newspaper” (magazine, in modern argot, founded in 1843) which has ere long been casting a devoted but unsparing eye on British and international life, business, politics, culture & even cuisine. Its writers also tend to be quick on the draw, well-informed, mercilessly witty. And wide-ranging.
As initially described in yesterday’s post, I started in early Friday afternoon, working on our version of the King Chuck Coronation Quiche.
It wasn’t til near 11PM that the first of two pies emerged from our small oven. Then the second one slid in. It was well after midnight before the pair was lined up to cool and one trundled off to bed.
How would I know that in hooking up with The Fair Wendy, I was entering into a monarchist alliance?
It’s true. We practically draped the whole place in black crepe when the Eternal Elizabeth passed on; and Wendy can still sort all the princes in order of their place in the Line of Succession, and then some.