Day In Boston: Kennedy's Pub

I love pubs.

I know that the places in Boston are only imitations of the wonderful, true pubs in Britain.

Damn, I miss London.

I miss the smell of the air, that wet, wet air. One of my friends is going back for two weeks. Lucky punk.

I miss the pubs with their deep, dark booths. A real pub needs some drunk guys in football jerseys playing darts. I miss that little place we went to after "Chekov Circus" (ghastly, painful little play) where we had pea soup and bread and red wine for lunch. Damn good lunch.

Kennedy's pub is okay for now.