Sunday, November 1, 2009


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  1. Hugh Plummer. Snowbound with Hugh Plummer at Lech, it was all we could do to keep the fire going, and freshen the cassoulet with an occasional sprig of winter thyme and a splash of auslese. I remember, we resorted to competing reminiscences of "The Gold Rush," although stopping short of tossing a boot into the pot, and quibbled mildly over whether Gabin got away alone in "La Grande Illusion."

  2. I wonder, if it's appropriate to confide the delirium to which we're all induced by Hugh Plummer, in such a family-oriented blog. It's bound only to work a visitation by the Bacchae, to take our thyrses back. By this I mean, what it sounds as though I mean, which can never amount to very much, in the absence of Hugh Plummer. Will no one disrid us of this tiresome priest?


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