No, Chip, sadly going to England will do no good either. The only two pubs
within reasonable traveling distance from the Streetly World Headquarters
are named The Soaring Weasel and The Cow with Three Wings. Martinge's fear
of flying extends to these august institutions, so much so that he is now
forced to get pissed at home in order to go down to the pub for a pint.
'Tis a sad spectacle--and so much bull. Greyhounds can barely drag him
there.
I suggest we all descend on Upper Greater Blithbury on July 15th, at 9:00 a.m. to personally wish Martinge and JB a happy St. Swithun's Day (the patron saint of all things mellotronic)! What do you say? Chez Smith now boasts a conservatory where we can all sleep for the night and have pillow fights and everything...
Rick (FSX 10030--if you buy the beer, I'll show up for a singsong down 't pub!)
Chip Gremillion wrote:
Hi Martin, I guess this means I have to come to England! Chip