Category: .

I picked up Octopussy, by Ian Fleming, sometime in the 1970s at the small-town public library where I grew up.  It was for sale, and I think cost something like ten cents.

Being a young James Bond fan at the time, I was delighted to happen upon this book.  But soon after I bought it, I promptly ignored it.

Now, of course I spent plenty of time examining the cover.  I wondered why anyone would have “X’d” out the cover.  I felt that the snub-nose revolver that Ian Fleming was holding was very un-Bondlike.  And where was the smoke that he was supposed to be blowing away?

It wasn’t until years later that I cracked open the book.  The lead story, “Octopussy” (which is nothing like the movie), is about 50-odd paperback pages.  More a novella or long short-story than a real novel.

James Bond is only barely in the story.  The main character is Dexter Smythe:

The widowed Smythe lives alone in his palatial, waterfront estate in the British West Indies, spending his days spearfishing in the shallow reefs by his home.  Smythe has taken an interest in an octopus he has named Pussy.  He wants to observe Pussy’s habits for a friend, Professor Bengry at the local Institute (presumably a marine biology lab of some type).

The deadly, poisonous scorpionfish is his nemesis.  One prick of the scorpionfish’s needle-like erectile dorsal fins and a man with die within minutes.

I’ve only had high tea a handful of times, as I’m not much of a tea-drinker.  But high tea at a grand hotel is something entirely different.  It’s not just tea or sweets; it’s a way of slowing oneself down and savoring the moment.

On a Sunday, after a symphony concert at Benaroya Hall, we arrived at the at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel in Seattle around 3:50 pm, not knowing what to expect, as the hotel operator had told us that high tea at the Georgian Room ended at 2:30 pm (we later found out that she was mistaken–Sunday is the only day when tea runs to 5:00 pm).

As it turns out, high tea–which they call The Georgian Tea, after the room where it is served–was available.

I felt a bit disappointed that we were nearly the only customers in the cavernous Georgian Room.  One table was leaving just as we arrived, but then another table showed up soon after.  Still, it would have been more convivial if the place had been more occupied (perhaps we were a bit late for tea).

The Layout:  Savories and Sweets

Tea choices at  The Georgian include eight teas, such as Earl Gray, 1907 Blend (described as a “unique blend is a luxury black tea with hints of oak cask and a dusting of delicate citrus,” Jasmine Green Tea, Peppermint Tea, and more.

Then we were given a three-tiered tray with sweets on top, savories in the middle, and more sweets on bottom.  While you are free to eat whatever you want, whenever you want, it’s suggested that you work your way downward.

• Top Tier:  Lemon Poppyseed Scones with Marmalade and Devonshire Clotted Cream.
• Middle Tier:  Roasted Chicken and Waldorf Salad on Walnut Bread; Sliced Cucumber with Avocado Mayo on Rosemary Bread; Smoked Salmon Bagel with Cream Cheese, Capers and Sliced Egg; BLT with Bacon, Iceberg Lettuce and Tomato Chutney on Sourdough Bread.
• Bottom Tier:  Pistachio Raspberry Gateau; Honey Crunch Hucklepuff; Chocolate Coconut Rocher; Strawberry Shortcake Cupcake.

All of this was preceded by fresh berries in a chilled stem glass.

The Experience

Our server, Kerry, was great about describing every item presented to us.  She was attentive, without being in our faces.  Because she was setting up The Georgian Room for dinner, she was always nearby if we needed her.

The oaky-flavored 1907 Blend tea was an excellent choice and a departure from the usual Earl Gray.  It had the black tea kick, but not the bergamont taste, which sort of sticks in my throat.

I loved the scones and clotted cream.  I could have made this my entire meal.

The savories were good.  Some of the bread felt a bit dry, though.

We were unable to finish that last tier, and took the rest home in a box.

Cost

Cost was $39 per person.  With tax and tip, the bill ran to about $100.

In all their glorious beauty, well over a century of Popular Science and Popular Mechanics covers.  And all the pages following the covers, too.

It always seemed like the covers were the main thing–blimps, subs, nuclear-powered trains, rotating houses, and all sorts of wonders that we would soon experience.

Truly, these things make me wish that I will get the flu, have a strong Internet connection, and a crisp & large screen suitable for looking at these gorgeous magazines.  I could get lost in them.

Want to make all the other kids jealous at the next summer music festival?  Ditch your Coleman Elite for something far cooler–a tent modeled in the shape and size of a 1965 VW Camper van (Microbus*).

This tent is officially licensed (whew – I was worried about that) and has doors on the side where a VW van’s real doors are located.  At 182 cm high, this tent has full standup-ability for four people.

Looks like this tent won’t be available for this summer, though, as it won’t ship until August 2011.  As a point of comparison, here is a real 1965 VW Microbus.

Best of all is the ad’s disclaimer at the end:  “This product is NOT an actual VW van!”

* NOTE
I know it’s called a Microbus, because in the authoritative words of C.W. McCall’s “Convoy” (1975):

Well, we shot the line, we went for broke
With a thousand screamin’ trucks
And eleven long-haired friends of Jesus
In a chartreuse microbus

Article References

• Firebox.com.  VW Camper Van Tent.
• VW-Samba.co.uk
• YouTube.com.  C.W. McCall “Convoy”

Reading the new paywalled New York Times today, I saw an article, pictured above, about violence in the Ivory Coast.

That word, intercommunal, leapt out at me.  Wha?  Huh?

The dictionary just says the predicable–“that which exists between communities.”  Well, yeah.  Duh.  But what is it really?

My guess is that this is the newest, weak-kneed euphemism for tribal.

Tribal.  Tribes.  People with bones through their noses.  Oooga booga.  Grass skirts.  Cannibals.  That’s the line of thinking?

And who exactly is offended by the word tribal?