An amp called Marsha
Another day in the agency. Will be working next week too and then working from home on another project with my French client. Went for a nice walk at lunchtime with The Gnome heading up the river. He told me about a painting project he was thinking about - painting an extremely realistic picture of his guitar. We had a conversation about guitar names. My white semi acoustic Washburn is called Bianca. Mike's guitars have no names, but he has an amp called Marsha (on account of the 'll' having broken off).
Off in the evening to see Mad Dog. Decided to explore Shepherds Market again which tonight was thronging and busy. We arranged to meet in a pub called the Shepherds Tavern. However Bob gave me some mystifying directions about where he was in it. After a futile search it turned out he was in an entirely different pub. We went to L'autre a friendly, if unlikely, Polish Mexican place with a French name. I had a Mexican starter, and a Polish main course, both of which were okay rather than spectacular.
Then, rather refreshed, we went to another pub where Bob took it upon himself to have a pedagogic conversation with the manager, explaining to her how to pour pints of beer. We went to Victoria where Bob waited with me till my train came.
Another day in the agency. Will be working next week too and then working from home on another project with my French client. Went for a nice walk at lunchtime with The Gnome heading up the river. He told me about a painting project he was thinking about - painting an extremely realistic picture of his guitar. We had a conversation about guitar names. My white semi acoustic Washburn is called Bianca. Mike's guitars have no names, but he has an amp called Marsha (on account of the 'll' having broken off).
Off in the evening to see Mad Dog. Decided to explore Shepherds Market again which tonight was thronging and busy. We arranged to meet in a pub called the Shepherds Tavern. However Bob gave me some mystifying directions about where he was in it. After a futile search it turned out he was in an entirely different pub. We went to L'autre a friendly, if unlikely, Polish Mexican place with a French name. I had a Mexican starter, and a Polish main course, both of which were okay rather than spectacular.
Then, rather refreshed, we went to another pub where Bob took it upon himself to have a pedagogic conversation with the manager, explaining to her how to pour pints of beer. We went to Victoria where Bob waited with me till my train came.
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