Given the relative vaguaries of this mobile blog application, I rather expect that this will show up in front of the entry which says I’m about to get on the plane. Nonetheless, I’m in London now on my way to Belfast.

The good news is that some of the frequent travelers with us were able to get me into the airline lounge where I was able to sample a long overdue Brittish bitter draught. Okay, two of them. The UK may not have a lot of cullinary clout, but short of Germany, they get beer.

Come to think of it… why don’t the southern European countries have any beer sense? Wine is fine, but it’s not a meal in the sense that beer is.

Speaking of meals, I’ve more than met my match. Several have noted my capacity for food intake (Kim, most notably of late), but one of the guys I’m traveling with can eat me under the table. He hasn’t stopped chewing since we left. If Kim were here and he were a she, she’d say, “bitch…” in a sort of endearing envious way. Maybe she could help me with what the male equivalent for that should be.