|
|
(Oops)
The Marquis of Granby and there were only swarming Lithers in the room by the time I sashayed in after Pride. Plus, I came with someone who knew a few Lithers. I think we do look all Barbelithy somehow though, gathered round tables like Menshevik conspirators, decrying filthbeer, lamenting the loss of Buffy.
Juggling two names can be hard and so can finding discreet ways to check out who the cutie in the Jean-Paul-Sartre jumper is, if he is, on the 'Lith. I use to keep an eye out for Mordant's rose tattoo but then she vamoosed abroad. Or Stoatie's gorgeous Bagpuss coiffe, sadly gone long since. Now I look for Anna de Logardiere's rococo coat or I scan for sleazenation's head, since he's eight feet tall.
Come, come, and remember to bring a present for the BarbeSanta ritual. Something interesting but cheap. We like that, because we're cheap and quite interesting. |
|
|