abroad 3

 Third of three posts about our 25th anniversary trip to England/Scotland/Ireland/Wales:

Later on April 22, we went to the Glyndwr Vineyard in Wales. The vineyard was neat, but the real attraction was the owner and host, who was this absolutely bonkers upper-class Brit fellow. I hope I'm descended from the same stock as this guy.

Of course he has llamas on his vineyard. Why not?

Sheep, too.

He's who I want to be when I grow up.

April 23, last day of the tour. To Bath:

Before we left, Laura OLPH asked me to try to bring her back some Mint Imperials, a kind of candy apparently sold in Britain. I had looked throughout the trip, and not found any... but in Bath was a candy vendor who specialized in the old-style stuff. He had them! So I have a small supply to deliver to Laura, when next I see her.

Then to Stonehenge. 

We would never have made a special trip just to go to Stonehenge. But I found it moving (and still do); I'm glad we went. I'm about as un-spiritual as they come these days, but there was something I can't explain away about Stonehenge.

We had one more night in the hotel, and the plane was leaving late the next day, and the Tate Britain was an easy walk away. So:

John Singer Sargent. 

Edward Burne-Jones. I'd never heard of him, and wanted to remember him.

There was a special exhibition of fairy paintings.The Fairy-Feller's Master Stroke is perhaps the most famous:

And now we're back, dealing with real life. And now I've got these posts out of the way, and can go back to normal anxiety and unrealistic self-expectation.

abroad 2

 Continuing about our 25th anniversary trip: April 18 to Edinburgh. Edinburgh is cool. At the fortress:

In the city:

TEW loved Scotland, and wants to go back.

The next day, a ferry to Ireland, and dinner in Nancy Hands, a pub in Dublin.

 

April 19: around Dublin. We took a tour of the Guinness Brewery. One of the highlights for me was this advertising specialty of a fish on a bicycle:

Regina is not really impressed.

Then to Glendalough. If I got it right, there was a Kevin in the 9th century who'd decided he'd had it with the hustle and bustle of (then) modern life, and moved to the Irish wilderness to be a hermit. Others followed, and a monastery grew up there, which was used for centuries. 

In the Priest's House, above, it's said you can put your hands on the wall and pray for healing. I tried it for a private intention. It can't hurt; nothing else seems to be effective!

April 21: to the Irish National Stud Farm. Horses. Mrah.

Then to Kilkenny. I liked Kilkenny. TEW is more taken with Scotland, but I liked Kilkenny.

Then to Waterford, to the crystal works:

That evening, to a pub in Saratoga to hear a local band. The singer, on the left, had a decent voice, but no rhythm, and told the WORST jokes. The old fellow in the middle, Eamonn, made that concertina dance; he was great.

April 22: Wales. Cardiff, the castle and the city. I liked Cardiff, too. Cardiff Castle is a Victorian recreation of what a disgustingly rich person thought a medieval castle oughta look like. He also showed off his erudition, with wall decorations in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic. (I prolly woulda done the linguistic showing off, too.)

All right, there will be a part three...