This very evening, in a landmark Parisian cafe in Montparnasse, Mr. Pugwash and Mr. Ryyannon spent several delightful hours discovering their common interests in Arthurian legends, Captain Beefheart, Glastonbury, Lars von Trier, Kate Bush, White Hat Hackers, the Mabinogian, the fine art of pornographic photograpy, Rudolph Steiner, Glasgow, Milwaukee Wisconsin, Los Angeles, Bangkok, the inherent intelligence of pigeons, life with three cats and a girl-friend, single-malt whiskey, good cigars, Frank Zappa, network administration, virtual footprints....and...um.....watches.
It is hoped that other members currently residing in Paris will feel encouraged to transcend their Frenchness and join in for a future meeting during which we can actually see each other and converse as nature intended - which is to say without the intermediary of data packets, lcd screens, but preferably clothed just the same.
Mr. Pugwash was a charming and knowledable drinking companion, while Mr. Ryyannon, evidently on his best behavior, managed not to alienate or otherwise offend anyone within several kilometers - the only exception being a blond of a certain age a few tables away who felt compelled to let Mr. Ryyannon know, and with great vehemence, that she was 'not a prostitute' but in fact was 'a famous artist.'
To which Mr. Ryyannon replied that he had been staring at her watch because he had mistaken her for Marianne Faithfull.
In short, a good time was had by (nearly) all.
No pics this time, but if we can dredge up a few courageous frogs the next time, Mr. Pugwash promises to employ his considerable photogaphic talents to immortalize the event.
Pug's Subs, Pam and IWC were impressive (out of tact and good breeding, we shall refrain from commenting on Ryyannon's frightening collection of dead Swatches), but to be perfectly honest, the girls - legions of them on this warm Summer evening - were even better.
And why is it that it's always when you're leaving that you see the one that you want to stay for?