Oddments
On leaving England I could hardly imagine that one day I might feel nostalgic for the imbecilic tones of Neil Morrissey, but having endured a dubbed Bob the Builder refer to Wendy's caravan as a "trailer" before constructing a "porcupine" crossing, I feel some sort of diplomatic protest to be in order; perhaps anyone in the locality could follow Simon's suggestion and throw a few bottles of Snapple into Newhaven harbor?
This coming weekend will take us south to Ashland for Derek and Sonia’s wedding, and at this moment I am nursing the inevitable hangover that resulted from Mr Finn’s stag do, a relatively staid affair, at least at the point at which I bid the rest of the party farewell - at the entrance to a dubious establishment named Mary’s Club, off Broadway and Burnside.
When Rachel took Ethan to New York a while back, I had the brilliant idea of taking the day off work to visit the very gates of hell themselves i.e. the bubbling cauldron of lava makes its presence felt at the crater at Mount St Helens. I took Monkey along for company but alas that was about as much planning as I could muster that lazy day, naively approaching from the south which lacks any vantage on rim. Going around was not an option (a hundred mile detour – apparently no-one had the foresight to build a volcano ring road) and apart from a fairly gentle hike cut short by reaching the snowline (needless to say I’d neglected to borrow snowshoes) and several cups of coffee and a slice of apple pie at a charming diner, that was that. Although I did get to put the ginger dream machine through its paces on the country roads (Monkey was egging me on rather). The experience reminded me that even with a map in front of you, it’s easy to lose appreciation for the vast scale of this area and – once one leaves the I-5 corridor – the sparsity of human life within it.
Monkey and I set off with much optimism.
Monkey posing in the snow.
Yes, it may be Twede's Cafe, North Bend, WA, in real life, but this is in fact the Double R Diner from (David Lynch's) Twin Peaks. Actually it's not, because the one that was used in the series was destroyed by arson. But they still have the star's signed photos on the wall and you can still get a slice of cherry pie and a damn fine cup o' coffee.
And to think they sell children's toys...
This coming weekend will take us south to Ashland for Derek and Sonia’s wedding, and at this moment I am nursing the inevitable hangover that resulted from Mr Finn’s stag do, a relatively staid affair, at least at the point at which I bid the rest of the party farewell - at the entrance to a dubious establishment named Mary’s Club, off Broadway and Burnside.
When Rachel took Ethan to New York a while back, I had the brilliant idea of taking the day off work to visit the very gates of hell themselves i.e. the bubbling cauldron of lava makes its presence felt at the crater at Mount St Helens. I took Monkey along for company but alas that was about as much planning as I could muster that lazy day, naively approaching from the south which lacks any vantage on rim. Going around was not an option (a hundred mile detour – apparently no-one had the foresight to build a volcano ring road) and apart from a fairly gentle hike cut short by reaching the snowline (needless to say I’d neglected to borrow snowshoes) and several cups of coffee and a slice of apple pie at a charming diner, that was that. Although I did get to put the ginger dream machine through its paces on the country roads (Monkey was egging me on rather). The experience reminded me that even with a map in front of you, it’s easy to lose appreciation for the vast scale of this area and – once one leaves the I-5 corridor – the sparsity of human life within it.
Monkey and I set off with much optimism.
Monkey posing in the snow.
Yes, it may be Twede's Cafe, North Bend, WA, in real life, but this is in fact the Double R Diner from (David Lynch's) Twin Peaks. Actually it's not, because the one that was used in the series was destroyed by arson. But they still have the star's signed photos on the wall and you can still get a slice of cherry pie and a damn fine cup o' coffee.
And to think they sell children's toys...
posted by Richard Tammar at 9:10 PM
3 Comments:
Sad to say, but Richard was nowhere to be found after we slipped into the salubrious confines of Mary's (or Saint Mary's as we later christened it). He was last seen heading east, shaking his head in bemusement at our juvenile antics, a man above the fray, staggering slightly from one two many apple martinis.
I s'pose at least they didn't subtitle Bob The Builder, as seemed to be the case for a number of British films/shows I saw in the States.
Check your spelling of harbour though...
yes, Katie and Peter is subtitled here (according to Rachel).
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