I spent the forenoon and afternoon reading fables of science fiction and watching my landlord apply greenish liquid to the interior of the habitat.
It had long come dark when I left the house to retrieve my two wheeler from the halls of wisdom (UW). On the return journey, I shortly passed the dome of amusement (College Inn), to find it empty but a few lost souls. Resuming my journey, I was on my lookout for a house of tea from the ancient countries, in the town of Wallingford, which was to celebrate the presence of string bards to play in the halls. As I found these empty as well, I resumed my journey homeward once more, passing some strangers on the streets of the town of Ballard. They inquired about the whereabouts of a local tavern whose name I faintly remembered, but could not locate reasonably. They asked me to join in their quest and I accompanied them. Settling in what appeared to be a royal hall, hence it was named “King’s Hardware,” we rested ourself in the rough sounds of the nearby port, cooling our throats. It was then when the most peculiar company came to our sight. Their cloth had them appear as golfers, nicely fashioned in garments of square makeup, yet their motions deemed hardly noble to the spectator. We inquired the strange occurance to learn that they were playing indeed a game most fashionable to the American youth. Going by the name of pub golfing, they roam the localities of the periphery, aiming to put repellant fluids into their mouths. Each pub being considered a hole, they follow this crude game in the ancient aristocratic fashion of golfing otherwise.
I will indeed have to further inquire this most peculiar game in the the future as a Player. Yet as of now, I remained with the token of a score card and a picture of the quaint company.
