Unclean.

Ugh. I've tried to go about my normal Sunday routine, but I just can't do it. I'm burdened, nay, haunted by those awful awful things I posted this morning. If only I could take it back...

(And yes, I do realise that I can edit my own blog. But I write Labville like it's Settlers of Catan: Laid is played, and there's never enough mud.)

Anyway, I would never do such a thing to the good people of the Cypress Club, and I hope that they see it in their hearts to forgive this man, who foolishly spoke of destroying something beautiful.

Honestly, though, now that I think about it? Settlers of Catan at that table would be absolutely incredible. I'm going to have to look into that.

It's a kind of magic.

Last night, I decided to check out the Cypress Club -- a "members only" establishment here in the city. From the outside, it's a solid brick building with a huge wooden double door in front. Its name is above the door in brass letters, and that is its sole adornment.

Already, I'm happy.

I go inside, and the chef introduces himself. There's no menu -- he simply asks what you'd like. I requested "something interesting", and he came out with half a grilled pineapple, stuffed with shrimp and scallops in a coconut sauce, served on a bed of couscous. In case you couldn't tell, this is the start of a long and happy patronage.

It gets better, though. After supper, I checked out the games room on the second floor. There's a gigantic snooker table, and a shuffleboard, but the pièce de resistance is their poker room. It's a small room with four chairs, a hotline to the bar, and a round felt-covered table which is 124 years old. Over a century of poker, played on that surface. It's breath-taking.

Unfortunately, it really brings out the mischievous imp in me. I've never played a game of Magic: The Gathering in my life, but the thought of befouling such a room with those cards...

I know. I'm a horrible, horrible person.