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- Thread starter Barbaria1
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But... we don't even... nevermind.Nonsense. You know the English and their penchant for the rules of society. Those girls were probably caught jaywalking against the lights or something.
I was 2007 here, "The Albert" maybe near of the "Red Lion".Nice post, John. This is our community.
Some of us have been lucky enough to do just that - the Red Lion in Westminster has become an unofficial meeting place for several of us on our international travels, and very nice it is too to meet up in person over a pint
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But 2007, I was not on CF.
windar
Teller of Tales
There's a Red Lion Inn near me in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. Is this some kind of chain, like Mickey D's?
A couple of doors down is Alice's Restaurant, made famous by the Arlo Guthrie song. The food is better at the Red Lion (especially since Alice's Restaurant no longer exists)...
I haven’t the faintest idea of what OS said. The English sure can talk funny at times. But something tells me I had better figure it out fast
Yep, Windar’s definitely here. Must have found his way over from the Dorchester. Somebody buy him a drink. He looks broke.
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Now you just imagine me trying to follow all of that.I haven’t the faintest idea of what OS said. The English sure can talk funny at times. But something tells me I had better figure it out fast
Maybe that's the point, it's a distraction, we'll be kind of dumbfounded and puzzled ... meanwhile the robed and hooded thugs come out of the shadowy corners with their ropes and whips and pointy things...
We had a Red Lion pub in Ottawa as well, for about 1 summer in 2018. Apparently the beer was okay, but the food was sub-par and expensive (it was in a touristy part of town). The place did not last long. I only really noticed it because the lion on the sign was a direct copy of the one in Westminster.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
ANYONE WHO WISHES TO CONTINUE THIS OR ENTER A COMMENT, PLEASE DO
A stranger in Town…
An average traveler, going to London, expects that at least the large railway stations are interlinked by direct connections? Forget it! Well, I should have known, the nightmare Paris with its terminus stations, is mirrored across the Channel, apparently.
I had arrived with the Eurostar at a station named Saint-Pancras. I had booked a hotel close to Saint Pancras Station (in a place I am unfamiliar with, I feel more comfortable close to the (emergency) exit). After my arrival, I first registered, and then, I took on to our meeting point, the Red Lion. Here it went wrong! My destination would be, of course, what would you expect, where else : Charing Cross Station!
But to my horror, there was no direct link between Saint Pancras and Charing Cross! I then informed how I would get there. Mind you! The people were all very friendly and helpful! But I did not understand what they were telling me! It was too complicated! Taking two or three underground lines, or this or that bus line?
I finally tried my luck with an underground line to the only place that sounded familiar to me : Leicester Square! From a long way to Tipperary! One needs an Irishman to guide you through London.
Arrived in Leicester Square, I made my way to Charing Cross by feet. In Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’, it is called ‘Charing T’ station, but, as we all know, a T-cross works as well as a Latin cross.
I make my way south now. Suddenly! I get confused! Am I on the right way?
“Are you looking for something, Mister Johnson!?” a policeman suddenly asks me, friendly and helpful.
“Is that Parliament, over there?” I ask?
“Yes, Mister Johnson! Sure! Parliament is the building over there!”
“Thank you, Sir!” I reply and walk on.
Now, here is the source of my confusion. I had seen Big Ben ahead of me! In my own mind map of London, I always had imagined that Big Ben was on the right bank of the Thames, and that the classic view of the tower with Westminster Bridge was taken from the left bank. So, I am on the right bank, of course, and in my mind I was on the wrong side, since actually, the left bank is the right bank for me, whatever…. Of course, Parliament Street is where Parliament is! Or no? If I would have been Winston Churchill, I would have assigned a Parliament Street on the opposite bank of the Thames of where parliament actually was, to confuse Nazi intelligence! So, my confusion was logic, after all!
But that ‘Mister Johnson’!?
I am dressed in my daily, casual way. There was no dress code for the meeting (at least, you’ll never know where it will end up), so I thought, I just go there as I am in daily real life! Now, I have the habit to go to the barber’s every three months to cut my hair. Trouble is, I usually skip every second of them. Now, if you also know that my hair comb is usually deeply buried in my backpack,… Last year, when I visited my parents, and I had once more skipped the one in two visits to the barber shop, my mom had said she had not recognized me first, and she had thought that Boris Johnson was at her door!
But, serious now! I can see the Red Lion in the distance ahead of me. The meeting place of the ‘Society for the Study of Applied Roman Penal Law’, or how you name it. As I walk on, I get doubts. After all, I am growing elder, I am not familiar with London, maybe they’ll find me just boring?
I am on my way to people I only know from an online namesake and an avatar. This time, it is planned to see each other for real! Now, the ‘Society’ is not a club of bookworms, studying old scrolls and manuscripts. ‘Applied Roman Penal Law’ has much deeper water! For years, we have discovered each other’s deep and dark fantasies, online. Now the heads in which these dark fantasies hide, will be unveiled. Shall this not be too confronting? Is this something that I want? Is it a good idea to go on with this?
IF ONLY I CAN FIND THE RIGHT ADDRESS...Enter at your own peril or delight. Which shall it be?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Don't try anything! The Red Lion has a strickt 'Leave your weapons at the door!' policy. Whitehall is too close, you know.
Just a hike up Victoria Street, I've marked them both on the map.
Love it! Is this going to be a continuing story?
It is odd meeting for the first time after so many years, but it is good too
We are all real people, ordinary people, with common interests.
That seems me all near.Just a hike up Victoria Street, I've marked them both on the map.
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Love it! Is this going to be a continuing story?
It is odd meeting for the first time after so many years, but it is good too
A septuagenarian with a learned look about him, and the initials, PrPr, emblazoned on a pin stuck in his lapel, sidled up beside me and pressed a wine glass into my hand.
“Riesling, I believe?” he said, arching an eyebrow.
“Why ... why ... yes, how did you know?” I stammered.
“Lucky guess,” he grinned as he started me towards a table around which sat a number of gents of about his age. “Won’t you please join us, we’ve been expecting you.”
“Ummm .... well, sure.” I replied, heading toward an empty chair on the end of the table, and performing a little hop and yelp as he surreptitiously pinched my bottom.
Pulling my chair up to the table, I couldn’t help noticing that one of the women had been stripped of her clothes and was being helpfully bound to the cross placed against the far wall by a trio of men.
“Who’s that?” I inquired.
“I believe that’s Kathy,” replied the bearded man sitting nearest to me. “By the way, I’m Bobinder.”
“And, I’m Apostate,” said the one next to him. “Good to see you made it, Barb. Sitting here next to me is Old Slave.”
I nodded in his direction, thinking he looked a good bit younger than I expected. He said something unintelligible, but I smiled back as though I caught every word of it.
From across the room I could hear someone with a French accent, pointing out that the cross upon which Kathy was now crucified was made of imported premium French wood.
“Messaline? ... who else?” I thought to my self, smiling knowingly.
“I assume, you’ll be willing to give us a show up there on that cross too before the evening is out,” chuckled a new arrival who had come up behind where I was sitting, and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, and please let me introduce myself. I’m Loxoru.”
“Only if I drink more than two of these!” I laughed, tapping the side of my wine glass.
“Barman! Bring her another!” shouted another at the table who introduced himself as KageKamen.
“Well, she’ll have to wait her turn,” chuckled a cruxgirl as she swept by.
“And that’s?” I asked, turning to Bobinder.
“Malins,” he replied, adding that RR and Rias where seated at the next table. I shot them a glance, noting that neither of them looked at all like a squirrel or a cat.
“What did you expect?” said the last person at the table who had caught the look on my face.
“Ummmm ...”
“Here now, Barb. Drink up,” he said with a grin, as he raised his pint. “You’re second drink is on its way. Oh, and I’m TwoNines and seated beside me is Migoz2.”
That left just one at the far end of the table who had said nothing, but looked on with a strikingly serene and thoughtful countenance. That’s got to be QuietPaul I told myself.
“Where’s Jollyrei,” I said looking around for someone dressed in funereal black.
“Over at the other table, I believe.” said Bobinder. “I believe Windar is holding a writer’s seminar over there. Perhaps you should go over and join them.”
“Yeah, think I will, and what about that other table over on the far side?”
“Ahh, mostly artists. That’s Mp5stab at the head. I’m sure you recognize the others.”
“Riesling, I believe?” he said, arching an eyebrow.
“Why ... why ... yes, how did you know?” I stammered.
“Lucky guess,” he grinned as he started me towards a table around which sat a number of gents of about his age. “Won’t you please join us, we’ve been expecting you.”
“Ummm .... well, sure.” I replied, heading toward an empty chair on the end of the table, and performing a little hop and yelp as he surreptitiously pinched my bottom.
Pulling my chair up to the table, I couldn’t help noticing that one of the women had been stripped of her clothes and was being helpfully bound to the cross placed against the far wall by a trio of men.
“Who’s that?” I inquired.
“I believe that’s Kathy,” replied the bearded man sitting nearest to me. “By the way, I’m Bobinder.”
“And, I’m Apostate,” said the one next to him. “Good to see you made it, Barb. Sitting here next to me is Old Slave.”
I nodded in his direction, thinking he looked a good bit younger than I expected. He said something unintelligible, but I smiled back as though I caught every word of it.
From across the room I could hear someone with a French accent, pointing out that the cross upon which Kathy was now crucified was made of imported premium French wood.
“Messaline? ... who else?” I thought to my self, smiling knowingly.
“I assume, you’ll be willing to give us a show up there on that cross too before the evening is out,” chuckled a new arrival who had come up behind where I was sitting, and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, and please let me introduce myself. I’m Loxoru.”
“Only if I drink more than two of these!” I laughed, tapping the side of my wine glass.
“Barman! Bring her another!” shouted another at the table who introduced himself as KageKamen.
“Well, she’ll have to wait her turn,” chuckled a cruxgirl as she swept by.
“And that’s?” I asked, turning to Bobinder.
“Malins,” he replied, adding that RR and Rias where seated at the next table. I shot them a glance, noting that neither of them looked at all like a squirrel or a cat.
“What did you expect?” said the last person at the table who had caught the look on my face.
“Ummmm ...”
“Here now, Barb. Drink up,” he said with a grin, as he raised his pint. “You’re second drink is on its way. Oh, and I’m TwoNines and seated beside me is Migoz2.”
That left just one at the far end of the table who had said nothing, but looked on with a strikingly serene and thoughtful countenance. That’s got to be QuietPaul I told myself.
“Where’s Jollyrei,” I said looking around for someone dressed in funereal black.
“Over at the other table, I believe.” said Bobinder. “I believe Windar is holding a writer’s seminar over there. Perhaps you should go over and join them.”
“Yeah, think I will, and what about that other table over on the far side?”
“Ahh, mostly artists. That’s Mp5stab at the head. I’m sure you recognize the others.”
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
After reading such a delightful piece of fluff, it would be a crime to comment. One should just lean back and enjoy, as with a fine wine, or a fine girl like Barbara.
fallenmystic
Tribune
Thanks for providing me a fashionable excuse for not being able to participate due to utter lack of literary talentAfter reading such a delightful piece of fluff, it would be a crime to comment. One should just lean back and enjoy, as with a fine wine, or a fine girl like Barbara.
But commenting or not, I'm also enjoying this thread much. And I suppose that's what really matters.
windar
Teller of Tales
The Garter and Swan, a nearby pub...
Inspector Bill Pritchard of Scotland Yard drained the last of his ale. "I believe it's your throw, Stan," he said.
Detective Stan Goldman of the NYPD picked the last dart off the table. Bill had made a circle of four darts surrounding the bull's eye. Stan had one in the outer circle and the rest scattered on the floor in front of the pillar to which the dartboard was attached.
"Maybe it would help if you imagined that you were aiming at your lovely partner's tight little ass," he suggested. Stan drew his arm back and hit the cork dead center. "That did the trick, old chap, didn't it?"
Stan smiled. "Do we have time for one more before we go bust that little crux party at the Red Lion?" He was so glad he'd taken a peek at Moore's laptop while she went on a run (and this time she hadn't left him handcuffed to the bed like that time back in New York). Her plans to meet this bunch of pervs in London were all right there. The woman couldn't get enough-crucifixion, hanging, caning, flogging-if it was happening Barb would be there, whether in New York, London, Singapore or Katmandu. Well, Stan wasn't going to let this crew with all the funny names have all the fun. Phlebas, PrPr, Wragg, Jollyrei, Windar, what kind of names were those? Plus it seemed there would be a bunch of hot women there-Kathy (well at least that was a normal name), Messaline, Eulalia, Jackie (another normal name). Well, Stan wasn't going to miss that party and Bill was happy to arrange a little pretend bust once Stan laid it out for him.
Bill looked at his watch. "Sure, Stan, I think we can squeeze in one more. After all, they'll be taking their time flogging the girls before they nail them up."
"I sure hope we don't miss that," Stan said.
"No worry, old chap, it's right around the corner from here." He motioned to the bartender, holding up two fingers.
"Listen, could I ask a special favor?" Stan said.
"Of course. You're my guest. What is it?"
"Could I get a little ice for my beer?"
Inspector Bill Pritchard of Scotland Yard drained the last of his ale. "I believe it's your throw, Stan," he said.
Detective Stan Goldman of the NYPD picked the last dart off the table. Bill had made a circle of four darts surrounding the bull's eye. Stan had one in the outer circle and the rest scattered on the floor in front of the pillar to which the dartboard was attached.
"Maybe it would help if you imagined that you were aiming at your lovely partner's tight little ass," he suggested. Stan drew his arm back and hit the cork dead center. "That did the trick, old chap, didn't it?"
Stan smiled. "Do we have time for one more before we go bust that little crux party at the Red Lion?" He was so glad he'd taken a peek at Moore's laptop while she went on a run (and this time she hadn't left him handcuffed to the bed like that time back in New York). Her plans to meet this bunch of pervs in London were all right there. The woman couldn't get enough-crucifixion, hanging, caning, flogging-if it was happening Barb would be there, whether in New York, London, Singapore or Katmandu. Well, Stan wasn't going to let this crew with all the funny names have all the fun. Phlebas, PrPr, Wragg, Jollyrei, Windar, what kind of names were those? Plus it seemed there would be a bunch of hot women there-Kathy (well at least that was a normal name), Messaline, Eulalia, Jackie (another normal name). Well, Stan wasn't going to miss that party and Bill was happy to arrange a little pretend bust once Stan laid it out for him.
Bill looked at his watch. "Sure, Stan, I think we can squeeze in one more. After all, they'll be taking their time flogging the girls before they nail them up."
"I sure hope we don't miss that," Stan said.
"No worry, old chap, it's right around the corner from here." He motioned to the bartender, holding up two fingers.
"Listen, could I ask a special favor?" Stan said.
"Of course. You're my guest. What is it?"
"Could I get a little ice for my beer?"
LittleSiss
Sorceress
When you see the fire in the sky and the wind blowing across the entire world.
Remember ...
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