Tuesday, August the 23rd, 2005
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“A celebrated poet, occasionally a little absent in mind, was invited by a friend, whom he met in the street, to dine with him the next Sunday at a country lodging, which he had taken for the summer months. The address was, ‘near the Green Man at Dulwich’; which, not to put his inviter to the trouble of pencilling down, the absent man promised faithfully to remember. But when Sunday came, he, fully late enough, made his way to Greenwich, and began inquiring for the sign of the Dull Man.” — Harold Begbie, The Bed-Book Of Happiness