I’m in Texas. I’ve just had enough time between flights to catch a shuttle to the train station and buy a $2 ticket to downtown Dallas, where I’m deposited not 500 yards from Dealy Plaza and the scene of JFK’s assasination. I wander round the grassy knoll for a few minutes attempting to look suspicious before diving into a restaurant and wolfing down a plate of alligator and sinking a pint of Coors. And now? Back to Blighty. Get the kettle on…


  1. Wellcome back home to Blighty, Fraser.

    Have a good sleep and get your
    body-clock back in sync with UK time.

    We are all looking forward to your tales
    of wonder and adventure.

    It’ll be good to have you back at the helm.
    Scaryduck, MEP, and myself, have tried
    to get Charlotte to behave herself, but
    to no avail. Sad to say, but I think you’ll
    have to resort to corporal punishment.

  2. hello ista, may be we can sort that out before daddy fraser is back home?
    I want to listen to blogjams tales peacefully.
    whats your offer?

  3. Charlotte, if you won’t believe that MEP and
    I, *are* different entitys, what on Earth can
    I/we do?

    Only Fraser’s IP logs could verify this.

  4. Someone should have told you that there is a tour from Love Field along JFK’s route through Dallas, including the usual historical info, commentary on the city, and (I am not making this up) gunshop noises at the appropriate place. Sigh. Only in Texas.

  5. Sorry, small, evil cats afoot. GUNSHOT noises.