"Come. It is time to keep your appointment with the Wicker Man."
Think of me, sweeties, as we travel cross-country 238 miles to the Wild, Wild West for the wedding of Madam Arcati's mercurial nephew today.
Plymouth is about as far as one can go in England. It's only Cornwall between there and Cape Cod.
The Talking Heads just about sum it up:
"Normal" service will be resumed at some stage on Thursday, or maybe Friday if the whole - ahem - ceremony takes longer than we expect. Or if nobody has a lighter that works...
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