I went to see Paddington this evening.
I realise it must be confusing for readers here, as I have two good friends named Paddington Bear and Sir Poddington. And confusingly, if either of them is more likely to end up with a “sir” in his name, it’d be Paddington, not Sir Pod. But hey, that’s just how it is. I know who they are, and that’s what matters.
Paddington Bear is, as his name suggests, a very proper English gentleman. We used to joke he was the sort of person who should have been born 70 years old, and an arch-conservative and he’s always kind of resented the world for the fact that he wasn’t. Despite being my age, or slightly younger, he is quite high up within the Imperial bureaucracy and Caerulia once described him as the ultimate dinner guest, for he is able to have an intelligent discussion about so many different topics.
This evening, we discussed law, public policy, the recent election, government advertising rules, production standards of British versus American television programs, the concept of “turning points” in battles, wars and history, a theory that girls who grow their hair really long are stuck in their childhoods, how one proves that a ‘gift’ has actually been given and how moving multiple times between Jerusalem & Rome has set me back in many ways. He’s just that sort of person.
And it was kinda nice to hear him tell me that he thinks I’m as interesting to talk to as I find him.
That is what I missed in Jerusalem – intelligent discussion.
Then, on the way home, some dickhead tried to run me off the road several times. I guess it proves that even in Rome, not everyone’s a Knight of the Realm.