Legionnaire's Disease

Oh dear me. Something else to be hypochondriacal (sp?) about.

A sentence has been passed down today against an architect for causing seven deaths due to Legionnaire's Disease from an inadequately cleaned air duct system -- she was cleared of manslaughter but not of violating the Health and Safety at Work Act. Pursuant to this, Maurizio and Eamonn have now informed me that I must not drink from the hot water tap or from duo hot-and-cold taps. This is apparently the reason for having separate taps, although I question that Legionnaire's is the reason for not drinking hot water. Oh dear, dear, dear. My tummy is starting to hurt from thinking about it.

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Thursday: Our team (minus two reasons for high hopes, since James and Claire had to cancel) did NOT come in last! And the MENSA team did not come in first, either. The world felt slightly out of balance, but we all recovered. Additionally, due to my stubborness, Biblical consultation was vehemently called for in the pub (and another team shared my view, so I wasn't just being contrary and pedantic) -- who would have thunk it?

The question in question was regarding who wanted Samson's hair cut... of course it wasn't Delilah. She was bribed to do it, but it wasn't her idea. And singing the song does not make that the correct answer. After sending loyal person across the street for a Bible, it was decided after approx. 30 minutes and various personal readings and interpretive activity that this was indeed true (but we still didn't get a point out of it as we only put 'king...' and it was, in fact, the five Philistine kings. Just in case anyone ever needs to know that in future.). The Quiz Master waving a Bible around in the Mackintosh was rather surreal and slightly amusing.

Saturday: Right... So, who would think that friends of mine from Little Rock, Arkansas (Justin's parents) would be accompanied on a visit to Cardiff by relatives from Jacksonville, Florida, who would be extremely close friends (for 40+ years!) with Irish second-cousin family of a Welshman, who just happened to be the person I invited to dinner on group outing? Furthermore, these people have several times met said Welsh person's Irish aunt, who is a nun in London and who I met two weeks ago. Twilight Zone? Yes. Yes, I think so.

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Scrabble scores are improving but am VERY annoyed by being beaten by >200 points. Have lost five games in four days (last night's spread was only 37, thank the good Lord). I mean, WHO scores over 400 points in Scrabble??? Wierd people who are too smart for their own good; that's who. :)

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The Hobbit Hole is disbanding :(
Hiroko has taken her dissertation to the binder's shop today! This is starting downhill slide into sadness, since she is leaving in two weeks to return to Japan. Her room is depressingly packed into boxes which are to be collected for shipping home tomorrow. Change alarms me.
The rest of us will then have to move by end of August, so that is another reason for butterfly tummy besides Legionnaire's and water pipes, although hope to have place to camp until figure out plan for self and remainder of life (haha).

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And our question of the day is:
How is a resolution from the UN going to even approach success in bringing about a ceasefire on both sides if one of the sides is a terrorist organisation? hmmm???

further explanation

from Days of the Week:

"Wednesday is often referred to as "hump day" because of its position as the middle day of the work week. If the work week were a hill. Then Wednesday would be the crest. It is all down hill from there. (Whether the down hill ride is a coast or a descent into a swamp is left to the individual.)"

More definitions here.
And who knew there was a Lakota Sioux war chief named Hump who fought against Custer at the Battle of Little Big Horn????

Mini me

The cutest (well, it's actually pretty fairly hideous, but in an interesting sort of way) Mini is sitting below the kitchen window.
It is powder blue with pink shag seats :)

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More info. has been proferred via email already this morning re: British eccentricity (a la Matthew).

National Be Nice to Nettles Week --what a pity I missed that in May.
And, last November's Nettle Eating Contest in Dorset... no comment.

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Must get typing. Prize enticement if I type 1,000 words today...

Does the blog count?

(AND humph/hump/harrumph day expires on Thursdays. Actually, every other day of the week as a matter of fact -- it is a Wednesday thing. Perhaps this is an exclusive Americanism...?)

Hump (or humph) Day

Today on her 12-mile bike ride, the Coonie has discovered that there are stinging nettles in GB.

Fortunately, she was with clever monkey, who (after initial open-mouthed look of shock, indicating thought patterns along the lines of, "WHAT in God's name are you doing trying to pick blackberries whilst standing in a patch of nettles?") knew that one should rub dock leaves on affected patches of arms and legs and fingers to overcome alkaline poison reaction -- or something like that. Foolishly, she did not pay attention to what this dock leaf plant looks like, so she should probably avoid nettles in future. Or keep minder close by. But there are such lovely berries in there and TONS more will be ready on the weekend, am quite sure!

Above is picture of nettle, just for everyone's reference. These do not look like nettles look in Louisiana and Texas -- they look like plants with pretty little flowers and ruffledly leaves. This is, however, the only traumatising flora or fauna that I have found here so far -- there are no poisonous snakes or spiders or creepy crawlies (yay!)!

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A game of Scrabble has also been lost this evening (due, no doubt, to distractions of nettle itch) by 100 points. So I must go to sleep and prepare to preform better at the quiz tomorrow. Maybe they will ask a question about nettles.

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NOTE: This site is now being sponsored by the Letter 'K'.

Paul has contributed knot, along with a handy little link to anyone with an alarming fetish.
Matthew is getting a bit out of hand and, while I have not looked up the words as am supposed to be writing like wind, have suspicions that he got some of his contributions from a book of Vogon poetry.
Paul would also like to point out that without k, there would be no knock, knock jokes.

furniture moving and wood louses

Have entirely moved room around into new arrangement, while simultaneously providing Maurizio and Hiroko with an hour of entertainment yesterday afternoon. Everyone seems quite pleased with the outcome. The things we will do to calm our brains...

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The 'K' kerfuffle (AAAAAHHHHH!!!!! HOW could i have missed that one? i LOVE that word!) continues. Kinky Kafka is a bit much, although perhaps they were not intended to form a single phrase by submitter. And I haven't the slightest clue what the Boltzmann Constant is (and do not have time to look it up in Wikipedia at the mo -- well, I do, but I am trying to focus on the organisation of this piece.).

Additionally, it has been brought to my attention that 'Auntie' is to be spelled with an '-ie' instead of the '-y' that i inadvertently used. I agree wholeheartedly and have no idea what the spelling cortex of my brain was doing at that particular instant.

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I have learned recently that Roly-Polys are not in fact known as roly-polys... they are Wood Louses (or lice, but that just sounds really unhygenic). Our house appears to be a protected habitat for the wood louse and I am the only one who is not afraid to pick them up off the floor and chuck them out the window.

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What is up with this American woman who is claiming to be a descendant of Jesus and Mary Magdalene? Why can't I think of something rubbish to write that people will pay money for the privilege of reading?

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Someone in the house seems to have changed their phone ring to 'La Bamba' -- hahahahaha! They can answer the phone any time now...

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must get to work now.... (sigh)

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.....

1. Aunty Karen, with kiln and kayak (VERY good!).
2. me, with kaleidoscope, kidney, kingdom, and kiss (kiss illustrated to R, H with man on street in London. Sometimes inanimate statue is the best type of male...).
(Additionally, if Klondike were used, not as an adjectival place name, but in manner of Klondike Bar, that would be acceptable). Inadvertently, and perhaps unnoticably, I used the word knickers in last night's entry; and the word keyboard is on the bottom of my screen at moment.
Wow! We're on a veritable roll here. Must make more coffee.

Is 'Keith' a word?

It is my contention that names are not equivalent to words (although some people have named their children after items of clothing, e.g., Pajama and others by which we are so amused.)... but still I seem to have gotten someone into a K'swivet, namely the person who was kind enough to allow an American to participate in Welsh go-karting. Oopsy! Perhaps I will need to buy him a Kronenbourg.

As well, several others have decided to point out flagrantly overlooked 'k' words (this is in order of submission, so as to prevent anyone else from flying off):
1. Matthew, with his kittens (can't believe that that didn't spring right into brain actually.).
2. Keith. With his own name.
3. a sign, with karaoke.
4. Paul, with Kodak -- which he kindly pointed out begins AND ends with a 'k' (and which I must dispute on the basis that it is a name).
5. Ms. Rosie, with knitting (OMG, where is my brain? This is becoming concerning.).
6. Eamonn, with Klondike (also disputed on basis of name item).

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I would like to request at this time that my other friend-persons with names beginning with 'K' not get their knickers in a twist -- Katharine, Katie(s), Kristie, Kacee, K-k-k-ken, Aunty Karen, Kristen, Kathy, Kelli, Kneece, Kelsey... Keiffer (hee hee hee).

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On a completely unrelated note (and to try to distract potentially vexed people), I have today learnt a new way of cooking rice: if you rinse it thoroughly in cold water before dumping it into a pot of boiling water, part of the starch washes off and then you can stir it all the way through the cooking process without it becoming annoyingly sticky!

AND, you can flavor oil immediately before cooking with it by adding spices (such as cloves and cinnamon) for a brief toodle around the bottom of the pan, although you remove them before beginning cooking. Very delectable smell and very delectable outcome.

Boys with Toys

Have been informed by credible source that correct spelling is 'go karting'. But words that begin with 'K' are generally displeasing to me as they frequently signal 'fun with words' (e.g., kuntry kutters kabin or kool or kwik kleaners -- aaaarrgggh!), to which i am definitely opposed. Exception would be kung-fu. Or khaki. Perhaps readers would like to suggest other acceptable words that begin with 'k' for my consideration.

Went on exciting excursion into Welsh countryside yesterday afternoon (!) with Eamonn, Keith, Simon, Sharon and Keith's work colleagues for participation in a Memorial Cup race but cannot remember who we were remembering.

Why is it that females are much more cautious drivers, actually just more cautious in everything in general, but we won't go onto a tangent about that, than males? Why do males drive ridiculously fast, bump into things & push people over to the dirt?

Photo (sorry it's blurry) is for the benefit of Lisa McR and is simultaneously a homage to my J-Lo-jumpsuit-wearing Papa :) Look, Mama, I'm a racing driver! Not really, came in last on most races -- although must admit was incredibly proud when came in THIRD when the Car of Power was my draw from the lot!

The Car of Power pleases me.

And just when I was starting to figure out the tricks of centrifugal force and gassing it to fishtail around curves, the heats were over and (big surprise) I was not in the final...

Moonbat

So, this interesting conspiracy theory video was in my inbox. Actually, it was a few days ago that it appeared but have been attempting to appear focused and responsible. Video appears to be produced by a UK-based organisation (from web address) and questions the claim validity of 9/11's Flight 77 being reported object that slammed into the Pentagon.

Anyhoo, when one decides to send a potentially controversial item, esp. when one has not taken time or effort to investigate origins, political leanings of origins, paper or plastic preference of origins, alternative video statements that vaporisation of a plane at 500mph is entirely possible (since one is supposed to be frenentically writing. and not on one's blog. smirk.), or really anything of substance at all re: origins, one should be prepared to be called a moonbat, i suppose.

Subsequently, term moonbat came into question by the British contingent (Matthew and Eamonn). Southerners LOVE creating double names and compound nouns, you know.

My version of semantics behind said term is: brainless creature spreading inane theories from UK-based loonies.
Wikipedia (props Eamonn) version: political epithet, originally known as 'Barking Moonbat'; often refers to proponents of conspiracy theories.

Readers may be amused by Barking Moonbat (from whence above image was borrowed). Or not, as the case may be.

And, Al, you really think I should be worried about that black helicopter that appears over the hill every time I go out the front door?

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Now, must get ready for go-carting! As one does.

Boy, it's hot...

...and what are we doing in this handbasket?

Besides the Middle East, both Paul and my daddy have informed me of 107*F temperatures in Shreveport yesterday. And thanks to Eamonn, this map shows that my 'part of the world' (aka, Loosyanna) is the warmest. (eek!)

And when it is so warm, and one is stuck in a woven carrying accessory, what better way to temporarily calm one's self than with a nice G&T. Have finally re-found amusing review from Liquor Snob. As well, and related, Matthew has informed me of terrible omission from London excursion: The Chap Olympics, sponsored by Hendricks.

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Oh, look! The picture upload link seems to want to briefly cooperate... me and Helene at birthday festivity (above).

And to R, Eamonn in Debtor's Prison Cell hallway (not really imprisoned), lower level of Southwark Pub. After some lovely garlickier than garlicky olives and a futile attempt of Hendrick's G&T.

More artsy attempts from Amrie
('Are you really taking pictures of your beer?' 'Yes, yes, I am. You got a problem wit dat?')
Additionally, this was taken in The Ship (also on the DWAT) and we got to watch a photo shoot with the tallest model outside the window. Everyone should be allowed to safety pin their clothes into place...

...get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop this (expletive)...

This transcript is spawning discussion of an evil complicity between Blair and Bush -- but I can't see what the fuss is about that statement. Except that I don't think we should exactly trust Syria either.

Some other interesting items:
Sunnis think the US should remain in Iraq -- NY Times
World War III -- Newt Gingrich as quoted in Seattle Times
And I cannot understand why the Italian news site lists an F-16 as reported to have crashed in Haifa and it is not reported on English sites I have looked at thusfar...
Also, the US is going bankrupt -- Telegraph (on a side note to this, the $ to GBP is expected to go 2:1 by Christmas.)

Going to madly watch news now whilst typing intellectual-sounding drivel about FI.

Note to Self

It is generally not advisable to launder black trousers in a washing machine with another clothing item in which is concealed a Tube map...

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Poodled on over to London on Friday for the celebratory event of Helene's birthday at the Woolpack. Had absol. amazing weekend of walking and walking through gorgeous weather that it was (and visiting impressive number of pubs along Dick Whittington's Ale Trails)! Eamonn niftily booked a flat through his company -- it is magnificent to wake up to the bells of St. Paul's and look out one's 14th floor window to see the dome on one side of flat and see Monument, Tower Bridge and the Gherkin from the kitchen window! Perhaps if am well-behaved, will be invited out in public again :)

There is a really excellent exhibit, Satirical London, at the Museum of London, which got the weekend off to a cultured start. This after a nice lunch in Smithfield Park (where there was a surprising lack of seagull interference... in fact, NONE!). Then walked to St. Paul's via the newly completed Paternoster Square, which is named after a central route that medieval monks of St. Paul's would follow whilst chanting the Lord's Prayer. It is a more than acceptable modern addition in keeping with the Wren architecture which it complements. There are some interestingly chic little cafes to try.

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Saturday: wisely had gotten healthful amount of sleep and so were up and walking by 10am. Route past Monument; past new memorial to the Siege of Malta during WWII (I had no idea that Malta was so important or that it was the most bombed place in the entire history of war); past Tower (through masses of tourist sheep); small detour through St. Katharine's Docks so I could check on my yacht; across Tower Bridge (through masses of tourist sheep meandering without a purpose -- 'There is strolling... and then there is going backwards!'). Got sandwich from Butler's Wharf courtyard (right around corner from Helene's) and ate lunch on boardwalk, before heading to Southwark Cathedral, Bermondsey Market (OMG! such a superb market) and Southwark Pub (where there are the nifty little debtor's cells to sit in); on to the shops attached to Vinopolis (am so pleased to have finally found Hendrick's Gin -- this is the most difficult item to find. There is a hysterical review of it that I read a few weeks ago when trying to expand my repertoire of descriptive and convincing arguments for the uninitiated -- but it seems to not be in the most popular list on Google any longer.); past The Globe; over Millenium Foot Bridge, past the Sports Relief 1-mile race (where we saw and photographed Colin Jackson, a native Cardiffian who, until last Wednesday, held the World Record of 60m Hurdles; there were thousands of people dressed up in everthing from fairy outfits to an entire wedding party!); down Fleet Street past Courts of Justice (the Old Bank of England was closed -- boo); past London Silver Vaults and to the Cittie of Yorke pub. Back to flat with purchases and headed to Covent Garden. Stopped in The Porcupine and then the Angel and Crown. Dinner with Helene at Henry's (not recommended for future reference). Then to Marquis of Granby (we see a theme here). Then back to flat for a weekend-cap with Helene.

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Sunday: out and about. Less walking. Well, maybe not. To Westminster; looped around back of the Abbey and then down Whitehall with intention of cutting through down St. George's Street by the Foreign Office to get to St. James's Park, when spotted military parade of some sort which we watched for a bit before getting back on track. To Victoria Station, back to Westminster along River to Tattershall Castle, a boat which was used to tether barrage balloons during WWII and which is now a lovely place to have a Pimm's (except that it was not quite as dressed with strawberries and cucumbers as would have been preferred). Then to Hyde Park to read the papers before embarking on return train, with the loudest group of four female personages who decided to invade our nice area of the Quiet Carriage armed with a bottle of champagne, a variety of handmade Belgian Truffles and shrill opinions on every minute detail of their weekend 'up in London', including a description of a 'lovely seafood salad at Planet Hollywood -- no, really! It is just lovely!' and the terror and proximity of weeping felt by one of them being stuck in a taxi and in danger of missing train (if that story was told once, it was told 57 times. 'I was NOT going to get on this train unless I knew you were on it!'). It would have been much less amusing but much more of an enjoyable trip had they, though.

After such a train journey, and a little Heineken to soothe our ears upon debarking, clever plans were put into action to create Mexican food. Which was done. Hiroko, Maurizio and Kath were suitably envious with impressive and undertaking, although I had to keep re-iterating that this was not real -- Old El Paso provisions (they ain't got no Pace here), while useful, are not entirely accurate. So, this was basically a British interpretation of an American interpretation of Mexican food. Judith is appalled that queso was not included. Although, made my first attempt at guacamole, of which am slightly proud -- it had too much garlic and lemon juice... I know, I know, limes are necessary, but... shall just have to try, try again.

My new project will be to try to grow avocado tree from seed. I have been smirked at.

Twiglets

Twiglets are a rawther intriguing British snack food (along with pickled eggs, fried Mars bars and a delectable variety of chip -- errrr, crisp -- flavours). They are listed as 'Hazardously Knobbly' on the bag and anything with such a claim must be tried (esp. if one is visiting the shop with a person who happens to love Twiglets and consume them on a regular basis and if one reveals to said person that one has no freaking clue about snacks named after tree parts).

Note 1: blogger picture upload button now seems to be on strike completely and will not provide deceptive option of even appearing to cooperate with the uploading of pictures. So persons without internet -- you know who you are -- can't even see pictures on printouts now... we must remedy this situation immediately! Esp. since you are unable to see a picture of a bag of Twiglets.

To return to soliloquy of snacks, my overall opinion of Twiglets is positive. They are knobbly. If they are supposed to look like twigs, they are from a pudgy tree. They taste like yeast and I cannot tell a darn thing about their healthiness as have not yet learned how to read kilocalorie amounts on packages and translate into my own dietary understanding. Although, they are baked, not fried and claim to be full of fibre (i.e., 'HIGH in FIBRE' in a little red box on the front with a check mark in front of it!).

Note 2: received another free pack of gum this morning -- oh, hoorah! This morning's testing was less enjoyable as part of it included Tricky McTrickerton maths like 'Working from right to left, divide the fifth whole number by the fourth fraction' -- WHAT??? They got nothing from me on that.

Note 3: I also like pickled eggs. Have no plans to eat fried mars bar, though, as that is just a bit too much.

Armenian Beer Urn

This is one of the inspiring anagrams of my name as generated by Wordsmith (thank you, Eamonn).
We will not discuss any sort of subtle significance at this time.

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Have just returned from second session in gum-chewing/memory study in Psychology department -- the things we do for money (and free gum), n'est pas?

First, did mood test;
then read a short story about a man named Mr. Kalada;
then had 20 words flashed on screen at me for 2 seconds each;
then had to free recall words;
then did true/false set with items such as 'AB -- B is followed by A';
next were the true/false sets for statements such as 'Madrid is a vegetable' and 'Pliers travel in search of food', as well as 'Alabama is a southern state';
then had delayed recall of words in list;
then identified from flashed sequence of words, which ones were in original group;
then answered questions about story;
and finally, another mood test.

I got to keep the remainder of my pack of gum.

Our kettle is broken ('...but first, I'd like to touch this rusty kettle.'). It is causing a bit of consternation as part of us don't use it and therefore do not want to buy a new one. But I would like to buy one of my very own that can keep for ever and always as I particularly like electric kettles as exotic and posh appliances. My simplistic enamoration amuses people.

On a completely unrelated note, have come to conclusion that seagulls are not cute beach birds which should be painted and memorialised. Yes, I have previously been attacked by them while trying to eat burger on Corpus Christi, Texas beach, but not with menacing atmosphere and possibility of real danger. Cardiff apparently has one of the largest seagull populations for a city... although I have no proof of this, just hearsay. So, anyhoo, we saw a baby seagull the other day and just wanted to look at it -- but were shooed down street by shrieking parental unit bird and I truly felt in danger of being pecked violently. The babies are really pretty ugly in a cute sort of way. And the seagulls here are fat and massive missile-like creatures. Seagulls have been in the news recently as well, not just for attacks, but also (and again, this is hearsay, but amusing hearsay) for the clever gull who loiters outside the eastern doorway of Central Market and sneaks in to steal expensive salmon from the fish mongers just inside the door when noone is looking!

Okay, must work now.

Additionally, today is double birthday --- Helene and Karsten!
Isn't it great to be 25?

Backscratcher

So, our team won the backscratcher at Macintosh pub quiz last night.
This means we were the losing team.
Since I am mostly uncompetitive (except when winning), it was not a huge crisis for me -- and as Eamonn sagely says, 'It is not the winning, it's the process that counts'. Or something like that... I mean, hey, I wasn't taking minutes! And then silliness and inane laughter resurfaces.

Yesterday was quite productive as well... collected Group Embedded Figure Test and misspelling identification data from 32 Year 7 and Year 8 (13-15ish years old) girls at St. Teilo's School. Now must think of cunning and intellectual manner to make something out of data. Origami perhaps? Why, oh why, am I not knitting my dissertation? Or even this? (thank you, Matthew for providing ideas)

Additionally, Tuesday night was too late to post pictures (and picture quality was annoying me since people will consistently refuse to listen to my instruction that one must prop camera in candle setting onto stationary object and use the tiniest press of finger to push button -- 'Oh, no. I've got it... this will be fine.' -- why don't I just talk to myself? Oh wait, already do. Is that a bad thing?)... Exit soap-box left. Anyhoo, here are pictures from the Llandaff Rotary Presidential handover ceremony at Radyr Golf Club -- I just absol. adore my club! Above is Immediate Past President Jack Ayles and Mildred. (and now, Blogger does not want to upload picture of new President Peter Clarke and Mo... grrrrrr.)

Notes to self:
Heat wave seems to have briefly broken, as was actually chilly in middle of night and had to turn off strategically placed fan (without knocking it off onto computer, speakers, etc. and generally wreaking havoc in havoc of room).

Have been informed of family plans for family reunion without moi. Well! Shall be there in spirit, wreaking havoc... and it is going to be in August, which climate I shall not miss :)

Today is one year on from terror attacks in London.

Dolly the Sheep would have been 10 years old this week.

Just now decided in moment of ADHD (and while fruitlessly waiting for pictures to upload) to fully investigate contents of envelope of papers from mama and have found not one (1), not two (2), but THREE (3) containers of dental floss! hee hee hee hee! Thank you, mama :)

Light it on Fire

It is hotter today here than in Barcelona, Rome or Barbados...

Am very sorry, mama, but you just can't get yourself all gussied up and make-upped and curled in this weather unless it is an absolute requirement for venturing into public. To console yourself, though, did get hair cut into layers by professional today and the lighter weight is marvelous :) Will have to have to invest in some shorts -- had this deluded idea that weather in Wales was going to be temperate with cooling breezes and lovely showers requiring cute sweaters (jumpers) all year long and so it wouldn't be necessary to bring extreme summer clothes. How silly was I?

Was forced to excurse into real world outside the back room of the Hobbit Hole today as am participating in a study investigating a relationship between chewing gum and memory. I will earn 25GBP for chewing gum and clicking buttons... hee hee hee

According to the radio in one of the shops today, it has reached Level 3 at 34C (=93*F) degrees in South Wales, but www.weather.co.uk does not seem to be aware of this fact, listing the high as only 28C (=83*F). There are some clouds in the east right now and I so hope that it pours down and lightnings violently tonight (after I get home from Llandaff Rotary President handover event.

Pugsley and Margaret

This is Margaret. She is a Kune Kune pig, according to the sign on the gate to her habitat. She is quite one of the ugliest, cutest things, I must say. She and her partner, Pugsley, live the National Botanic Garden of Wales, where I went yesterday for the District 1150 handover of Rotary District Governorship. The ceremony and lunch, was held in a marquee (was corrected from calling it a tent -- oops. But my claim is that it was still a tent, albeit a glorified one with chandeliers), during which Ambassadorial Scholar sat and sweated like picture of creature above, failing miserably to look like collected, intelligent ladylike person. On a positive social note, I did not give in to tendency to find puddle of mud.

The Botanic Garden is west of Swansea, about a 45 minute drive from Cardiff. David and Sonya Worrell allowed me to accompany them, and after the ceremony, we ducked out from entertainment (or we all might have melted to our chairs) and walked through the gardens. The Great Glasshouse is this magnificent greenhouse which was excavated and the glass roof is merely the top of the hill -- it is the largest single span glasshouse in the world. Inside, are areas housing tropical plants from six zones: Chile, Australia, California, the Canary Island, South Africa and the Mediterranean.

Outside, in addition to a well-appointed complex of museum-type buildings (and an ice cream stand), is double-walled garden. The construction of a double wall allowed greater variety of plants, especially fruit trees, to be grown as insulated from cold weather. Certain stones were used in some walls because of their heat-holding properties and David told me that certain double walls were even outfitted with fireplaces!

It was rawther sweltering and when Pugsley decided to join Margaret in her bath, there was quite a bit of snorting protestation.

Note to self: do not stand too close to mud-bathing hairy pigs when dressed in nice clothing.

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Saturday -- biked 9.5 miles on Taff Trail to Radyr Weir (info approx. 1/2 way down page). A weir is a little pebbly, sloping sort of a dam thing; and there are several of them as you go from the centre of Cardiff along the River. These weirs have something to do with salmon and sea trout migration and at Radyr Weir is a spawning house (or something similar). Excursion led by mad Wirish person, who has actually turned out to not be quite so mad after all, and who provides historical commentary and interesting trivia along the way. Did I have foresight to take camera? Of course not. But am going to try healthful activity of regular biking, so will go back.

England out of World Cup. Immediately after game, Macintosh Pub had distinctly funereal air... grown men expressing emotion. And what will Simon do with 500 England hats? (heh heh heh)

Dinner with Italian contingent and misc. others on Sat. night, partly for celebration of Dawny's birthday (she is 21!) -- Fabiana did outstanding job once again. Must get her to teach me sauce-making before we all move away from each other in a couple of months :( Have I mentioned her good news of an 6-month contract in Brussels working with the UN -- media for Dept. of Transportation, I think. Hooray! Will now have additional reason to visit Brussels!

apparently have reached picture limit on this entry (why? how? how vexatious.) Am going to be forced to link through Flickr now, preventing persons without internet access (i.e., Mama) from seeing some pictures. (hint, hint, hint)