It's a small world after all

Yesterday, when I was in Flamstead to visit St. Alban's Cathedral, I popped around the corner to an Indian restaurant for lunch. It was a somewhat formal place with lots of fru-fru on the tables. An excellent dinner. Of course, I would expect nothing less as London has the best Indian restaurants outside of Bombay. The lasting benefits of Empire, I suppose.

In any event, I was wearing my Seabury sweatshirt. I ordered my meal, etc. The proprietor happened to be walking about and noticed my shirt. In proper Victorian English (People from Bombay are the only people who still speak proper English I've been told because they still talk that way in Bombay, having not so much been influenced by American or postmodern British speakers of English due to Television) asked if my shirt was from Seabury Western(pronounced Sea-burry not Seaberry) in Chicago. I was surprised because most folks over here, even at Westcott, couldn't find Chicago on a map if you held a gun to their head.

I said that I was from Seabury, and the proprietor got all excited. Turns out he went to Northwestern University. Go figure...

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