I forgot what day it was

It's 8 am and I just forgot what day it was. Luckily the nice British man sitting on the couch next to the computer was kind enough to remind me. Sunday. Last day before we go back to London. Of course, we don't leave tomorrow until late, so I suppose you could count that as another day. Yesterday was an amazing day in wonderful Wales (catch that alliteration?). We visited Caerphilly Castle. A 100% real, fantastic, stone, moat surrounded castle. Allie and I picnicked on the stone surrounding wall overlooking the moat and the acres of land stretching away. There were hills and tiny little village houses and lots of dogs gallivanting. Best of all? People were fishing in the moat. Can you imagine? Living so closely and casually by a freakin' castle that you just go over and fish in a moat? I can't. Then again, I live in America, and we've gotten rid of most of our history that goes back more than about 400 years. No castles for us, but perhaps its better that way. Who knows.

We also checked out the National History museum. There was this haunting exhibit about the Romans invading Wales. Druids apparently tried psychological warfare and dressed up like hags and witches to scare the Romans off. Didn't work. Surprise. But it was cool to see. An artist had made a sort of video and the art work was stunning, especially when combined with the hauntingly rough music. You know that primeval feeling you get when you enter a forest? There's fog and animal calls. The air is cold and damp, and you don't know where you are. Are those shadows moving? Was that a rustle in the trees? Can you feel the heavy beat of the woods? Imagine that in music that wasn't quite music. No wonder I got so disoriented in that place.

Then to cap it all off, a great night at the pub! I got my Guinness but then we also got a lovely treat of free pear cider! Not just a taste, either, but a full half pint. The music for the night was great, too. It was this old guy with arm tattoos, a pot belly, and a long white beard. He was hysterical. These two guys were drunk off their asses, too, but not so much that they couldn't do jigs and funny dances. He even played an Irish drinking song that I could sing along to! My favorite, though, was "There's no one as Irish as Barack Obama!" Now, to get the full effect of that song you have to say our president's name with an Irish accent. There you go, you've got it now. We sang along to tons of songs and when he asked if anyone was from America, I of course shouted YEAH! and started to wave my hands like a loon. He said he liked old Jersey better than my beloved state, though. Mildly offensive, but all in good fun! I'm telling you, this guy was great. All in all an excellent night. Free booze, good entertainment; sounds like heaven.

Alright. I've been monopolizing this computer for too long now. Peace out, homes. May your lives be long and your cups overfloweth with plenty.

-H

PS: Allie where are you? Have you disappeared? Need I send out the virtual search party? I'll do it, you know I will. Sheesh.