Alright, a confession, I had dinner at a sit down Chinese restaurant. Was going to keep this lowkey but we have no secrets, do we? Well a few, for instance, not many of you know I am berift of hair.
Anyhow, had dinner at a really good Cantonese place (yeah, the Chinese have a hold on me) and rather than walk back to the hotel, walked up the Highstreet to a bar in tribute to Robert Burns. Ended up talking to some great old guys (put me in that category).
We toasted Nickerson. And they sent their condolences. That’s Steve on the left, an ex-chef with a bad knee on his way to Portagual at the end of June. Next to him is Scott, the bartender, who I believe, we entertained with our spittal and wit. Finally is Johnnie (not to be confused with John who was ten years younger and left earlier), who is going to the Canary Islands in a forenight. John worked on ships when he was younger and has seem more of the world than most.
But the great thing is, we all toasted Nickerson.
Nickerson was a great cat.
That’s it. Time for bed.