Far too many, we fear. For the USCIS
is again on the march, and we must submit. Not merely to their will, but to a short-to-long-ish sojourn in London, the home of greasy people with a narrow outlook, but some fine ales. What do you call a limeyblogger, nay the Dean of Limeybloggers, when they cease to be limeys? A plonker, that's what. Still, we should be able to keep up the good work, maybe even with pictchahs.
So, how has Hawai'i been? Absolutely mystifying. It's certainly mystifying that it's so fun, given that there are no ne'erdowells on the streets after 10, no drunks, divebars, peculiar restaurants, or rude people. Here on the North Shore, the Mormon is King, or Deacon, and thus smoking and drinking are in several precincts somewhat illicit. And in others, very dampened. If that makes us sound homesick for the NYC, and if you would surmise that we're mighty cross to only have 36 hours before heading back to the land that brought us Richard Branson, you'd be right on both counts.
If, on the other hand, you have surmised from the ever-so-slight southern inflection that we have brought to our self-pitying screed that we have been reading Bone Boy Wolfe's Man In Full
, you are so inside our head that you are either the Supreme Being or Cutesome, and in either case we bow in respect. Where were we? Sunstroke? Ah, yes, booze.
But the sun, the sea, the sand, and the fruity drinks keep coming, and we have cast off much of our pasty hue. The slight pinking that we have acquired will far poorly next to some of the orange specimens that will be trolling around London, but we will be safe in the knowledge that this ain't no Canvey Island tan.
Incongruous things. The Waimea Audubon Centre. Has a waterfall, very romantic, just like tail, only for safety reasons carpeted with yellow warning signs that make it resemble nothing so much as the produce aisle in Tescos. Second one, the Polynesian Cultural Center, run by the Mormons as an adjunct to their Brigham Young campus. Looks like a pretty good deal – young men and women get scholarships to an American college and in return they dance for tourists five hours a day.
Looks authoritative, although the exhibitions have a standard of flashness that would be shamed by the Commonwealth Institute (look, we know we should be using more links here, but time is of the essence, and with regard to the previous reference, just visit the place next time you have the misfortune to be in Kensington). We also note that it's kind of rare in that it seems to revel in the wholesale changes brought about in Polynesian societies by the new religion. And to resent the influence of the British on the area. (possibly because Captain Cook was y enough to be killed in a cool island fashion).
Oy vey. TTFN, and you'll be hearing a glorious Flickr-enhanced bunch from us next week. Stay dangerous, and good luck Jethro.