Quiet mountain road, chilly evening. The Guardia Civil do an ID and vehicle document check and then ask us to get out. GC1 takes a couple of paces back, while GC2: OK, we’re going to do a thorough check of you and the car for estupi … estupe … estupefacientes. M, also happier with common…
Amando de Miguel says it owes its name to the colour of Capuchin friars’ habits, both concrete and abstract–apparently they were notorious sybarites. I find the colour hypothesis slightly unconvincing, but it’s confirmed here. Evidence of their bizarre taste in this serendipitous find, a description by Nathaniel Parker Willis, Summer cruise in the Mediterranean on…
To take a stage version of a mad Ukrainian novel to Edinburgh this summer (budget here). If I had the money, the time and the talent, I’d try to buy myself the part of Junkie.
Arthur Kenyon in Letters from Spain (GBS), in an otherwise standard mid-19th century account of the sherry trade in Jerez (“Zeres”), writes: A good deal of the wine makes a voyage to India and back before it is mixed in the way I have described and sent to England. Maybe the guys over Catavino will…
Bowman Ales have got their feeds working now, so if they just enable comments people will be able to read posts and write wonderful things about them without shifting from their, ahem, WiFi-enabled bench.
Captain Al Cohol (via Papel Continuo; more superheroes) has nothing to do with Al Pernales. I’d hate to think how long it is since I was last ravaged by a bare