A lot of people travelling these days. Or, to tell it differently, I mosey on down to Piccadilly station this morning and I run into a cat getting off the train from somewhere far south. Only this isn't just a cat. This is the cat. She's your number one blog cat, black cat, hep cat, yep cat; she's Hak Mao. And she's headed somewhere north. But there's time between south and north, and so we head off to the Little Yang Sing. Problem is it's still too early for the Little Yang Sing. We think again. A coffee and then back, by which time they're open and doing lunch.
And what do you think? We talk about a large number of items, ranging from Sydney and Manchester and blogging, to the left and the war and the election, to Victor Serge, Mark Waugh, Once Were Warriors, the Guggenheim... oh yes, and blogging and bloggers, until the time comes to head back to Piccadilly, whence Hak Mao continues north. Top chat, top cat.