O.M.G., observe the cuteness. With the warm little paw wrapped around my leg, the widdle head snuggling against me, and the deep green eyes looking at me with affection (or thinking how tasty I'd be if she successfully murders me in my sleep -- sometimes, it's hard to tell what's going on in there). But, oh, I do miss her furry little self. Morning tea is awfully nice when served in pretty china by a professional, but that can't compare with a home-brewed mug and kitty cuddles.
I've been forgetting our tour guide's daily little reading/pronunciation errors by posting time, so I started taking notes. (Don't me get wrong -- I genuinely like our tour guide. She's friendly and competent and is doing a really good job being informative, entertaining, and keeping us on schedule. But some of the entertainment value comes from the mistakes.) Today's little misspoken bits include: "say-tir" (satire), "Sa-loam" (Salome), and that very famous leader in India, "Mohammad" Gandhi. Cracked me the hell up.
Not much happened today. We woke up damned early and took the bus to ... um ... the village of Knock, which was notable for having really big restrooms with no waiting. Then we went to see the grave of W.B. Yeats, which would have been more moving had I really been a fan of his work. (We also stopped for tea and coffee at a little tea shop nearby -- actually, it was billed as a "charming" tea shop. Said so on the sign. Unlike Knock, it had only one stall per gender. I left the graveyard early to be first to the ladies' room. Opened the door and found: (1) a cocktail napkin in the sink; (2) a poo in the toilet; and (3) no toilet paper in the dispenser. (It's the trifecta!) I took one for the team and resolved issues 1 and 2 myself, and went in search of an employee of the place to take care of issue 3. Once this was resolved, the tour had caught up with me and there was a long line. My tour-mates rather graciously let me return to the front of the line to finish what I'd been unable to start. So, yay for my travelling companions; boo for the tea shop being somewhat less than charming.)
Back on the bus and on into Northern Ireland. (Our tour guide commented that people are less friendly here. This is probably true -- folks we've met in the Republic of Ireland have been just crazy nice. And it seems genuine, too. Actually threw me; I'm not used to that kind of nice on a regular basis. Still, despite the possible less-friendliness, I felt nice and comfortable being back in the UK. Street signs aren't in Irish; distances are in miles; prices are in pounds -- it's familiar to me.) Once in Northern Ireland -- and, that's literal, it was about 10 seconds after we'd crossed the bridge that marked the dividing line -- we went to the Belleek pottery factory for a tour. (Which, of course, ended in the gift shop.) Some of the stuff (particularly the basket-style stuff) was genuinely beautiful. It is also expensive and breakable and I have a cat. Mine is not the sort of house to decorate with expensive, easily-breakable things. (I have limited space for displaying stuff you can't touch.) So, no baskety-style Belleek for me. Pretty, though.
From there (after a brief stop at the pharmacy because my damn deodorant stick broke in two and fell on the floor at the last hotel), we went to the next hotel -- we're at Lough Erne (which you'd pronounce Lock Erin); it's a golf resort on a lake. Here is the view from my window:
Actually, that was the view from my window. Now the clouds are grey and it's a lot wetter.
2 comments:
She's a jewel of a feline, she is. (Don't forget to snag some barf bags from the return flight).
I envy you your travels.
Meow! (I miss my furry friend, too.)
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