I’m reading a biography of Coleridge, not because I love Coleridge’s poetry (it feels antiquated to me–because, you know, it is!–but I think I mean it feels antique) but because the biographer is Richard Holmes, the most marvelous companion you could want if you were wanting to conduct a psycho-socio-literary autopsy of a writer.
Anyway. The point is that Coleridge once frequented a tavern called The Salutation & Cat. The Salutation & Cat! I would like to live at a tavern called The Salutation & Cat. (And indeed it takes lodgers.) I’m reading a book filled with striking insights about everything I care about, but what I will most remember from this experience, I’m sure, is that there was once a tavern called The Salutation & Cat.