My how the peculiarities seem never to cease.
Only this very morning, as I took myself for a constitutional to find a coffee, did I come to the understanding that such beverages are illegal…or anathema in some way. Caffeine, it would seem, is a vice of the sort which these Salt Lakers hate. My surprise, no doubt, was understandable—and yet, I do confess, my understanding of the Mormons is limited. Much of what I know comes from the writings of Mr. Conan Doyle, whom presents little, if anything favorable. However, I was convinced from the start of my visit that such a characterization was unfair, as I had yet to meet any such ruffians or blackguards as Doyle described—certainly there are fewer horses…
Thus quitting the third establishment to explain this strange prohibition, I was equaled in my perplexity upon stepping from the shop (holding something called a ‘smoothie’) only to be nearly knocked from my feet by a passing velocipede. This, as it happened, caused me to drop my ‘smoothie’ upon the tarmac, and sending my cane into the nearest gutter. What’s worst, is that I believe the rider of offending contraption to be no less a member of the reverend clergy! Even the episcopacy, perhaps?!
Well, a fine thing it is to be shunted about all morning to be frustrated in this way in my efforts to procure tea or coffee—but this indignation may be the worst. I only hope that a repeat of events (of which my regular readers will no doubt recall) in which I was forced into a contest of pugilism with Hugh Grant and his driver… While I’ll leave it to my readers to revisit that story (for I’ve no reason to preen about my victories), the matter ended with Taylor Swift receiving a black eye (Grant’s driver is no fighter!), and Mr. Grant and I laughing and nursing our bruises like old friends at a nearby public house… Sadly, I fear my efforts in finding such a public house here in Salt Lake City may be likewise undone.
Indomitable in charm,
The Reverend Mr. Percivale E. Hollyshoes