It's always good to know that, however long I've been away, whenever I return to figure drawing group, it's always the same, like a touchstone. Although, I hasten to add, no touching is involved. Apres-draw was also reassuringly familiar, from Kimberly The World's Greatest Server to the Boodles martinis that flowed freely down willing gullets to the Seared Tuna with Ginger Slaw that has no peer in Hampton Roads. Now if I were in a Julian Assange frame of mind, several participants in the festivities might be sweating bullets right now, but since I am the soul of discretion, miscreants may sleep soundly for another week, or until I wake up surly one day and feel like blowing the lid of the whole sordid enterprise.