Welsh Blooper

One of our favorite parts of our trip was the wonderful friendship we formed with 92-year-old Mr. Wiley, our neighbor in Wales. One morning he took us into the local church. He was so excited to show us everything and we were excited to see it. He showed us a prayer bench which was made from a tree planted by St. Garmon. I don't see well without reading glasses and I was a bit 'zoned' so I missed the period indicating the important end of a sentence and the beginning of the Biblical reference that followed. That's where you'll find the blooper. I kept the clip running a bit so you could hear my wife laughing in the background. Sorry the aspect ratio is messed up. I'm having some problems trying to figure out how to stretch it out in iMovie.


After the laughing is done another funny happens. My hearing is also starting to depart so I could swear Mr. Wiley asks, "Do you like poultry?" It's funny because I immediately thought of a good friend of mine who admits to having a 'burning Amos' every time he eats the Colonel's Hot Wings. Mr. Wiley was actually asking, "Do you like poetry?" He then went on to quote Lord Alfred Tennyson.

York Castle Museum

I had already fallen in love with castles by the time we reached York. So the thought of going to the York Castle Museum was a bit exciting for me. After getting a good dose of Viking lore, we decided to take the short walk to the Castle Museum and enjoy the history of what are really just big piles of stone.

The building housing the museum is impressive. I didn’t know it at the time but it was a former prison. We paid our admission fee and entered. It quickly became apparent that this museum, even though it had the name “Castle” in it, had nothing to do with castles. The Castle Museum is all about the history of domestic British life back to the 1700 somethings. The further we got into the museum, the more plates, dresses, girdles and washing machines we saw. More dresses and frilly froo-froo things awaited us around every corner.

Now please understand that the museum did an excellent job collecting and preserving items of value from domestic life. It was top-notch. But it wasn’t my thing. My wife loved it. In fact, it was probably one of her favorite things. But I did not. It was all I could do to fain interest. I tried to be polite but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. If you love that sort of thing, this is the place for you.

But that’s not me. I don’t care if the Queen of England wore that dress (and she did) it’s still boring and I have no interest in that stuff. But I was stuck inside for over 2 hours, trying to stay just ahead of my wife to keep her moving along. But that only made her upset. Had there been a hands-on experience where you could throw rocks at stuffed barbarian heads, protecting the Queen’s dress, I may have been a bit more interested. But there was nothing of the sort. Just a lot of dishes, old rusty tools, and a big hearse.

I sat outside on the steps for another hour, begging the museum to cough-up my wife, which it eventually did. I looked longingly at the small castle on the hill next to the museum, knowing that if I entered, my wife would come out looking for me. And not being there, she would have had speaks with me. With everyone now in a foul mood we went back to the center of town and found some sandwiches to eat inside a department store. We sat in a small square surrounded by fellow tourists all doing the same thing. You could hear little arguments breaking out all over. Apparently, everyone had the same experience we did. And now some were being made to pay for it.

Then, when you think things couldn’t get any worse, the ladies all left me sitting alone while they did more shopping. I did a lot of that. And they never seemed to find anything. They just liked looking at the stuff. When I caught a glimpse of them, I told them firmly that they could continue shopping, but I was going to the cathedral, with or without them. Sheri was interested, the girls were not. Too bad for them because what we saw was my favorite part of the whole trip.

Breakfast and Yorvik

It was going to turn out to be a great day. We met our hosts, Chris and Julie Simpson in the dining room of our bed and breakfast at 23 St. Mary’s. We slept very well and were looking forward to another full English breakfast. We would not be disappointed. And since the girls never got up for breakfast, we would be dining with our new friends, Maurice and Pauline Williams. We had met them the night before in the B&B lounge. They were in York to see their grandson sing in the great cathedral during the week, a treat that we would miss. Now we joined them for breakfast.

As described before, the full English consists of eggs, English bacon, Cumbrian sausage (made from real Cumbrians), fried potatoes, fried bread, fried tomato, sautéed mushrooms, eggs (however you like them) and this one would include something extra special. On the advice of Maurice and Pauline, I tried the black pudding. Now before I tell you what it is, I’ll describe it’s taste. Actually, I cannot, as it tasted like nothing like anything I’ve ever eaten. It wasn’t bad at all, but it wasn’t familiar, either. I have nothing to compare it to. However, the mouth-feel was something like firm stuffing. Basically black pudding is blood stuffing. That’s right, it’s blood-soaked bread cooked up in a tasty (?) little round shape looking quite black on the plate. Sheri gave hers to Maurice. I ate mine politely. It did not cause me to gag in any way, unlike the mineral water in Bath. But I did not order another slice.

This I must, however, mention aside from the excitement of the black pudding. This was probably the best breakfast I’ve ever had. Food is my hobby. Appreciating great food is my other hobby. Chris Simpson cooked an amazing breakfast. I told him to surprise me with the eggs. He brought out the most heavenly scrambled eggs I’ve ever had. And I’m really good at scrambled eggs. Julia Child said, “if the eggs are done in the pan, they are overdone on the plate.” Chris Simpson knew Julia’s secret. They were exquisite, as was the rest of the meal and the coffee. Wow! That’s a huge plug for 23 St. Mary’s in York!

We must have sat at the table for an hour enjoying the company of our new friends. But then it was off to see the town. We started with a riverside walk down the Dame Judy Dench pathway. We didn’t know what we were walking on her pathway until we saw the plaque at the end. It was a lovely walk filled with the sounds of the girls telling us they didn’t want to see one more cathedral. Too bad for them. However, just to make them happy we started at the Jorvik Viking Centre.

As mentioned before, York used to be a Viking city right after the Romans were done with it. The Jorvik Viking Experience lies deep under the city where an attempt was made at a Disney-like ride akin to the Pirates of the Caribbean, only with hairy and smelly Vikings. You go down the stairs and enter a corny time travel machine. You watch a quick movie and then the seats wiggle slightly from side to side indicating you have just traveled back to 975 A.D. California wiggles back and forth sometimes but we’re never brought back in time. Then you team up and enter basket-looking carts and they bring you around the Viking village. They blast authentic smells at you but most of the stink fans smell like burning mulch. But it’s nice mulch, not nasty mulch. You know the kind.

We got a huge kick out of the ride. And since we’re descended from Viking stock, it made spending a hundred bucks for a fifteen-minute ride even more worthwhile. We got to see a real archeological dig. But the highlight was the frighteningly large Viking turd. Constipation was the first thing I thought of that poor Viking. And no wonder it was found petrified because it was probably already halfway to petrification when it was dropped by that poor Viking.

So, let me cap off the morning. Best breakfast, ever. Great conversation with new friends. Super-expensive and cheesy Viking ride culminating in looking at a huge petrified Viking turd in a protected glass case. It was like looking at the Jorvik Crowned Jewel. And all this before noon! What other adventures would the rest of the day reveal? Plenty.

And just for clarification, in the photo above appears on the left with sword, Brittney, a Viking, and Elissa. The Viking appears at first glance to be a very hairy Viking maiden with large saggy boobs. But it is actually a handsome Viking warrior with his belt hiked up really high under his large belly lending the appearance of drooping McGuffies.

Bonk on the Head

I recently added yet another concussion to my collection of head injuries. I was opening up a chain operated roll-up industrial garage door when it reversed on me while I was under it. I made the mistake of looking up at the noise it made upon its sudden reversal. The door bonked me on the forehead, knocking me to my knees and causing me to see stars. I waited to see the rotating cuckoo bird but I don’t think the bonk was hard enough. However, it did take a dime-sized chunk out of my forehead and left me bleeding. My assistant, Cherie, helped me with the wound cleanage and bandaging. After the first aid treatment I returned to the garage door and found the missing chunk still hanging from the edge of the door. I wrapped it in clean paper and put it in my pocket (don’t ask me why, I had a concussion). After convincing my coworkers I was fine and capable of driving myself to the emergency room, I headed down the freeway to our local Kaiser Permanente health farm. Just before I found a parking place I hit something with the car. I think it was a low curb. It made a lot of noise from underneath the car but I discovered the noise went away if I stopped moving. So I did. I’m not as think as you dumb I am, am I? I waited two and a half hours to be seen. After that long wait they gave me a Band-Aid and a tetanus shot and told me I had a concussion. Glad I waited. My daughters discovered I was in the emergency room and came to keep me from driving home. My daughters are very safe drivers so I let them care for me. They also tricked me into giving them my keys. Wasn’t too hard since I had a concussion.

My worst concussion happened when I was a maintenance man at camp. Deano and I were taking down some barriers inside of cabins when one let loose on me from high up and bonked me on the head while I was kneeling on the floor. I saw stars on that one too. The rest is foggy. Dean tells me that he told me to go see the nurse. All I remember is that when my memory returned, I was in my dorm bed clutching a paint pan and some other nonsense object. Not sure how or where I got the paint pan or the other thing I can’t remember. Maybe Deano can leave a comment. He can make stuff up because I don’t remember anything about my journey from the cabin to my bed. The moral of these stories is, “Always wear a full-face helmet.”