HUNG, DRUNK & QUARTERED Noonish: I am in the pub. Behind me hangs a quote from Tom Clancy. He name-checks the pub in one of his techno thrillers like a modern day Johnson or Pepys. If only they had had the talent to write in great detail about cutting edge naval rigging and musket discharge ratios they may have also had their work stacked in airport bookstores today. If I turn around I can tell you which Clancy book this place is featured in but frankly I'm not that bothered. Clancy loves writing about the SAS so maybe that's it - they all tend to smoke pipes from what I remember - but this could be the pub he had Jack Ryan meet the IRA in... or maybe Clancy sat here while writing gibberish about the Beefeaters in the nearby Tower of London - something about them being crack commandos cleverly disguised by their pantaloons. Isn't Jack Ryan president now? I always liked the cartoonish Clive Cussler novels better. Dirk Pitt would uncover a Viking ship buried in the moat of the Tower, dispatch a few hundred Russian/Chinese sailors and still have time for sex with trophy sidekicks who would then have the decency to get killed before he had to deal with a relationship. Fuck James Bond. Anyway... Jess is in the Tower right now. I did my duty and stood in line and then scarpered here as soon as they got past the first portcullis. I spoke to Jess on the phone a little while ago and sure enough the kids are more interested in the shop outside the castle walls than the stuff inside. My kids would be more interested in executions and axe blades that t-shirts and teddy bears. Maybe we should spawn simply to stop the Luddites from outnumbering us. It may be my duty to reproduce so there is someone to carry on my work of whinging and rubbing people up the wrong way. But then I'd perhaps have to admit defeat on the whole immortality plan and I'm not that bored with life yet. Don't you lose the will to live once you have children? And there is so much still to see... The world is full of Americans for example. They provide an endless source of entertainment and horror. Before turning the laptop on I had the privilege of explaining what exactly being hung, drawn and quartered entailed and was bought a drink for my trouble. I had four email addresses thrust upon me and was told to drop them a line if I was ever in Ohio. Friendly people. This afternoon we are supposed to tackle the British Museum but I have a feeling that I will be the only one still fit for it. It's fucking hot out there today. Another pint I think.... Back home: Jess is not a happy Jess. I however am full of beans and have suggested a detour to the pub next door for a veggie sausage roast and a few more pints. Bliss. Mike is blogging to: nothing good