I’m back.

A 9.5 hour plane ride on “Can you give me LESS space for my legs?” Saturday was followed by “Who am I and what is my name?” Sunday.

My first day back at the office was Monday. Strangely, people seem to expect me to “produce” results of some kind during my hours at the office. Crazy, right? Meanwhile, I keep looking at the clock and wondering – “If I was in Wales, what would I be doing now?” Then, out of nowhere, an email pops up demanding my attention, so I mentally wander back from the rolling hills dotted with little white fluffy sheep and throw myself back into the normal work day. 

My normal work day, sadly, does not involve sheep. Or pints. Or cheese. Or castles.

Sigh.

I DID actually manage to download photos from the trip on Sunday, and was able to identify each castle and ruin AND ruined castle. This buoyed my sense of confidence to a ridiculous degree, but those castles DO start to run together a bit. How was it Adrian (a.k.a. Langland Death March Commander from See Wales Tours) referred to them?

Oh, that’s right.  He called them ABC Tours.  

Another Bloody Castle.

An interesting side note to this whole trip is that when people ask, “Where did you go on vacation?” and I say, “Wales,” they say, “Wales??! Why Wales?”

You should have heard the Londoners’ responses when they discovered we had spent our time anywhere other than their fair city. I’m surprised they even let us stay overnight, considering how we betrayed them with the Welsh. “Wales?? Wales?!!”
(We stayed in London Friday night to see a show and prepare for our Saturday flight out of Heathrow, or as I call it, “The Mall That Thinks it’s an Airport.”)

They took great pains to point out the National Museum and say, “Bloody Wales doesn’t have a museum like THAT.”

“They bloody well don’t!” We agreed hastily and enthusiastically. (Self preservation is strong in those being transported at break neck speed by annoyed but proud taxi drivers.)

I think Wales and England might need to have a little “I’m okay, you’re okay,” discussion. Maybe over a few pints. I’d be happy to act as mediator.

Anything to get me away from email for another 9 days.