Tropical Britain: Naunton and Bristol

The unseasonable temperatures, the likes of which haven't been seen in 50 years*, had Britons out in droves this weekend. We were amongst them, of course, shaking out the cobwebs of a Friday night sending-off party and heading to the Cotswold Farm Park. Lambing season is being heavily promoted across the county right now, and Tea was determined to cuddle a good percentage of the latest to the flocks.

* According to BBC Radio Gloucestershire

A dovecote in Naunton

Despite the crowds, we had no trouble getting our hands on the lambs and kids -- U'm, that's baby goats, folks! Let's keep it clean, now. Even the lambing demonstration -- twenty minutes on all that's involved in bringing healthy lambs into the world -- was scheduled regularly to keep the audience to a reasonable size. The layout of the whole park worked very well, in fact: the fenced areas were such that you could feed the animals that were hungry -- from bags for sale -- while others rested away from the excitement.

After that, it was home for a kip before our table reservation at the Hollow Bottom -- one of the Cotswolds' most acclaimed pubs (and deservedly so).

* * * * *

We were up fairly early on Sunday, planning to hit the boot sale and antiques show at the racecourse before my noon train to Bristol. While the boot sale was packed, the £4 door charge at the antiques show kept the numbers down. The Antiques Roadshow happened to be filming as we wandered the floor; a suspicion we only confirmed later that evening. (Sorry, Mom; should've got an autograph.)

The find of the morning -- thanks to Tea! -- and a recent fascination for me, was a copy of a Ward Lock 'red' guide book of Bath from the 1930s, in beautiful condition. The guy who sold it to us was the spitting image of Tom Baker (in his heyday) -- the best of the Doctors, I'm sure you'll agree. I strung-out the conversation much longer than necessary to revel in it; luckily, he was very friendly.

From there, I hopped a train to Bristol with some friends to see Bristol Rugby host Nottingham at Memorial Stadium. With some time before the 3 p.m. kick-off, and at the suggestion of the Bristol native amongst us, we headed to the Wellington, just down the street from the stadium. A Bath Ales owned pub, the Wellie offered every one of their regular brews on hand-pump, and had plenty of outdoor seating.

Full of Sunday roast, we made our way to the 'cheap' section, which turned out to be the well-shaded area behind Bristol's end (for the first half); we had front-row seats for much of that half's action, and some great moments in the second to boot. Mike, our host, couldn't get over the number of tries: 29-19 for the home team, once it was all said and done.

One of our group was visiting from the States, so Clifton and the famous suspension bridge were next on the agenda. The whole area was something to see, especially on the day -- more like a slice of London than what I think of as the South West -- and folks were out on blankets, soaking up every last bit of it.

Mike had been talking up Exhibition cider, so the wind left our sails a bit when we saw that the Coronation Tap was closed. (Probably for the best, what with work the next day -- the stuff is legendary.) The Mall stood in admirably, though -- I certainly enjoyed my pints of "cellar cool" Tribute -- serving very good food well after 7 p.m. (Unheard of on a Sunday in Chelty, for example.)

Check out our Picasa album of the weekend for lots more pictures of lambs, flora and blue skies.

New Year's in Prague

Well, before I start on our trip to Prague, just a few words about our Christmas: it was nice 'n' quiet, with plenty of delicious turkey and roasted veg leftovers -- Tea cooked her big meal on Christmas Eve, which they get off here -- mulled wine and cheesy movies. On Boxing Day we were on our way to Telford and then Newcastle to watch Newcastle United vs. Manchester City live! -- Robbie and Lill got us amazing seats, and the atmosphere in St. James' Park was top notch: the 52000 in attendance birthed this undulating roar that was unlike anything I'd experienced, even at the fantastic matches in Dublin the summer past -- and celebrate Jan's birthday; and, man, I knew her Stan was one-of-a-kind, but there's no half measures with any of the Geordies I met: tons of elaborate 'fancy dress' costumes and things still in full swing when we left in the wee-ish hours.

Tuesday, December 28

Luckily we'd padded our schedule with a day between Newcastle and our flight out of Bristol, as the M1 was pretty much a parking lot for large swathes of the 27th. With an early afternoon flight, we got plenty of sleep, even after a late night of packing. This was our first time on EasyJet, which was much like the other discount airlines (if a bit dirtier, to be honest, although, hey, it could've been worse with how quickly they turn around those planes).

Prague Airport is a ways out of the city, and that, combined with my poor direction sense, particularly at night, and the strange currency, had me a bit worried as the cab ride stretched on. 700 Czech koruna may seem like a lot, but it's really only about £23. (I was just starting to get the hang of converting that on the fly as we left.) After quickly dropping our bags, it was time to meet Ron and Michelle, fellow Canadians coincidentally in for Ronnie's big birthday, near the Prague Orloj, or Astronomical Clock, which was just a few blocks from our hotel. The first of many meals of goulash, chased with much pivo (pretty much all the Czech you need, incidentally) of various sorts, followed.

Wednesday

Prague Castle, or simply 'the hrad' to the locals, topped Ron 'n' Michelle's list for their last day, so we agreed to meet them up there after a fantastic breakfast in our hotel's cellar. (You can see a number of advertisements around town for pubs and restaurants in these cellars, and it's definitely a neat experience.) The hrad grounds stretched on and on; standing in the beautiful St. Vitus Cathedral, you could be forgiven for forgetting you're still within its walls. At minus 10°C, we soon needed some mulled wine, as we admired the icicles hanging from the mouths of the cathedral's gargoyles -- "Ice vomit!" as Tea so eloquently put it.

Michelle wanted to pick up some art, so we shopped our way back to town, over the famous Charles Bridge. (I've seen pictures of it in the summer, and I have to say, even then, there was something so right about it set against grey clouds, snow resting on its 30 statues.) I know many would call the galleries and little stands along that stretch touristy, but I was really impressed with the quality of the watercolours and ink drawings I saw; probably the most beautiful and varied I've seen of what you would consider readily available to the casual buyer.

Shopping's thirsty work, so we decided to stop at the Hotel U Zlatého Stromu's heated patio for some refreshments. Well, one look at probably one of the best menus I've ever seen (in terms of presentation) quickly pushed this well beyond even our substantial definition of a 'snack': check out Page 72 for a glimpse of Ronnie's skewer from the gods. More than sated, we resumed shopping, determined to rebuild our appetites for the amazing ham sandwiches at the Christmas markets -- reminiscent of the "slab o' ham" sandwiches from Cologne... Boy, do they know how to cook good pig in that part of the world!

While I think I preferred the Christmas markets in Cologne overall, one area where the Prague markets excelled -- and the old town square market, in particular -- was the live entertainment. The traditional (what I would call medieval) instruments, lighting that didn't drown out that of the big tree and stalls, and plenty of room for all to gather round really made for an immersive experience. (I recorded this sound clip by the stage.)

Speaking of medieval, later, when looking for somewhere to warm up and have a few, we happened upon such a themed restaurant. Initially, only the bar held our interest, but as late afternoon became evening, we learned that they were putting on a show later in the basement. Well, expecting something along the lines of Medieval Times, I was really impressed by the quality of the entertainment -- excellent musicians, belly dancers (carrying snakes and juggling flaming torches at different times throughout the show) and swordplay -- and the food; more food than we could eat, in fact. (I recorded these excerpts right from my seat.)



Thursday

We decided to skip the hotel breakfast in favour of an epic lie-in. In typical fashion, the idea came to us that New Year's at the Prague State Opera's gala event, Johann Strauss’ operetta Die Fledermaus, would be fun. However, we didn't bring any nice clothes with us, so, after a breakfast of klobasa from the old town square Christmas market, it was off to buy new outfits; Tea was crushed, of course.

The stores were surprisingly quiet for that time of year. We completed our mission in record time, I thought, and was particularly tickled that Tea found such a beautiful dress. After dropping our shopping in the hotel room, we decided to try the restaurant, Rainer Maria Rilke, right next door. It was a beautiful place, if a bit drafty, and the owner was very accommodating. I had roasted duck -- his grandmother's recipe! -- and Tea had salmon. So tasty!

New Year's Eve

Since this was the last day of the Christmas markets, we spent some time picking up a few gifts, and stuffing ourselves on the treats, of course. I think it's safe to say Tea's favourite was the trdelnik, which is a spiral of dough wrapped around a roller (called a trdlo), sugared and cooked over open coals. Very addictive!

It started to snow as we wandered 'new town', so we stopped in Branická Formanka for lunch. The place was packed, with only reserved tables open. However, as the Good Beer Guide Prague stated, it's always good to ask: we found a table that was apparently reserved special for us. Our waiter was very friendly, actually (which is unusual for Prague, incidentally). Good goulash and beer followed, then it was back to the hotel for a kip before the big night.

I'd reserved a taxi to the State Opera House for 6:30 p.m., but found, once we were in the lobby, it was the hotel driver who would be taking us. And then he offered to pick us up at a time of our choosing! No mad hunt for a cab on New Year's in Prague, apparently. The Opera House was absolutely breath-taking; the ceiling and balconies were so beautifully detailed.

Tea and I felt perfectly at ease amongst the well-dressed crowd -- thank goodness we'd shopped! They had an open bar, which was a nice touch, and as I was reading the English summary of the operetta, beer in hand, Tea struck up a conversation with a Dutch couple nearby.

When the operetta started, I surprised to see a large flat-screen above the stage, for the Czech and English subtitles as it turned out. (The operetta was performed in German.) I think there was a large French contingent behind us, as you could hear their translations -- presumably for their non-polyglot or short-sighted members -- in the quieter moments. (That, and there was an enormous cheer when the cast got to "Bonne année!" at midnight.)

After the first act, the buffet was served. Oh - my. Let's just say we were foolish to attempt to queue for what descended to a free-for-all. (It brought to mind a music video from ages past where everyone was in tuxedos and gowns to begin with, all prim and proper, only to become something like bipedal zoo animals by the end for reasons that escape me -- please comment below if this rings a bell, as it's bugging me and my Google-fu is weak.)

As Act III came to a close, champagne was passed 'round the audience, the cast toasting the new year with us in an astounding number of languages. Then, over the course of no more than twenty minutes, the orchestra pit was raised to meet the stage, thus creating a large dance floor. During the first few numbers, as couples slowly made their way to the front, there was one real stand-out: you could tell this couple had been dancing together for many, many years, and there wasn't a step they didn't know. Simply mesmerizing, as they made use of the still-sparsely-populated dance floor. But then it was packed, and stayed so as we shared a final drink with that Dutch couple, before saying our goodbyes around 2 a.m. I'm sure that place was hopping 'til the moment it was scheduled to finish, an hour after that.

A quick New Year's skype with Tea's family, and then it was time for bed.

New Year's Day

The hotel had humanely extended the hours of breakfast; after taking advantage, we set out to check some last spots off our list: Obecni Dum, and the Alphonse Mucha (pronounced MOO-ka) museum. (I'm embarrassed to admit that, while being a fan of his art for many years, I didn't realize he was Czech. A happy surprise, I can assure you.) We both really enjoyed the museum: the layout was excellent -- and beautiful, of course. There were many pieces I hadn't seen, and themes to others that I'd never picked up on. The documentary was also very well done. We came out of there with laden arms, in search of sustenance.

Another item on the list -- well, let's be frank: my list -- was a 'tankovna' or tank pub, where they serve unpasteurised pilsner (mostly Pilsner Urquell in Prague) from these polyester-lined steel tanks. Bredovský dvůr was my first choice, as the GBG Prague also highlighted its honey-glazed ribs. And with good reason! They were absolutely amazing! (Although Tea 'n' I probably could've shared an order.) The Pilsner Urquell was also excellent -- could I pick it out from the stuff for export if I was blindfolded? I honestly think so. The difference in the 'nose' and depth of flavours is significant.

Wandering the city the day before, we'd been handed a number of flyers for various concerts, either on New Year's Eve or early in the new year. We'd made the decision to go to the New Year's concert in the Clam-Gallas Palace, featuring Vivaldi's Four Seasons, as well as selections by Mozart, Dvorak, Pachelbel and Telemann. We left Bredovský dvůr with just enough time to make the 6 p.m. start.

Clam-Gallas Palace is famous for a number of reasons, including hosting a concert by Ludwig van Beethoven himself, as well as a ball that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart attended. Sitting in that intimate room, which honestly held little more than fifty guests -- a private concert, really, in other words -- so ornate (thinking of the Opera House again), and with that history in mind... Well, good G**, even I can't fail to grasp that I've really arrived: the Europe I've always dreamed of is before me.

I don't mind telling you that that ten-piece string orchestra's performance of Johann Pachelbel's Canon in D brought me to tears; and flowing ones at that. The whole concert, certainly less than an hour, was unbelievable, really. A violin soloist, Lucie Hulova, according to the programme, took the floor a few times, and her performance of Winter (I don't know which movement of Concerto No. 4 specifically) in particular opened my eyes to: 1) the leeway they have in performing these pieces, as she sprinkled little... quarter notes, I would imagine, throughout, and 2) what true passion can bring to a performance -- particularly when you standing barely 15 feet from the musician!

If you haven't guessed by now, I would have to put this in the Top 3 concerts of my life; if weighted with ticket price, at the equivalent of £15 per person, it shoots to #1, easily. And, as I said, we had our pick of these concerts without even trying. What an absolutely amazing city!

We finished off the evening at the nearby pub, U Zeleneho stromu. They had pretzels at the table, hanging off these neat little trees, and more unpasteurised Pilsner Urquell. At some point an entry on their beer menu caught my eye: Master Special 18°, which doesn't mean 18%, by the way, but rather is the percentage of malt sugar present before fermentation. Still, generally speaking, the bigger the number, the stronger the beer. This was brought home to me when I ordered it, "Is a strong beer, yeah?" was the waitress' reply. Well, holy tootin', she wasn't kidding. A beautiful dark, it was so much smoother than I'd expected. In truth, I nursed it, because with every swallow I could feel its punch. I defy anyone to have three of those in a night and make it home under their own steam.

Sunday

Our flight wasn't scheduled 'til the early afternoon, so we took the opportunity to go a-wanderin'. We ended up outside the hrad main gate as the changing of the guard was finishing; quite the production, especially under the gaze of those battling titans.

Then it was back to the hotel to pick up our bags, after lunch at the nearby Prazsky most brewpub. All in all, a fantastic trip. Tea's already talking about returning in 2011, which suits me fine.

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the trip.

Back to the Cotswolds: Postlip and Cirencester

After so many weekends away, or preparing to leave, it was nice to stay local for a change. We had plans to attend the first evening of the annual Cotswold Beer Festival in Postlip, and then decided that getting back to those countryside walks on Saturday or Sunday wouldn't go amiss either.

We bought tickets for a bus to and from the festival, which worked seamlessly. We're fairly organised about these festivals now -- mind you, this was definitely the biggest one we'd been to by far -- bringing snacks, water, jumpers (i.e., sweaters), and a large camping blanket that's waterproof on one side; it beats standing the whole time, and packs up nicer than those camping chairs. The selection of ales was so impressive; all the more so because you're in this enormous converted barn, listening to great live music. I had ales that had hints of fruit cake, others called Pig's Ear and Dr Hexter's Healer, porters called Old Slug, and the list goes on.

Oddly enough, we had an epic lie-in on Saturday. Then it was down to High Street for some errands, and lunch at Nando's; that fixed us right up. (So glad to hear they have one in Ottawa.) Rejuvenated, we decided that today would be the day that we'd make our much-talked-about run to Ikea in Bristol. And it worked out really well: much like home, it seems folks forget that the place is open late on the weekends.

The Church of St. John the Baptist

We got up a bit late on Sunday as well -- I made some of the Turkish tea we'd brought back from Kuşadası, which really hit the spot -- so we decided to stay close for our walk. In the end, Cirencester, with its beautiful Church of St. John the Baptist, won out. We had a great time wandering the church grounds, and through Bathurst Estate and Cirencester Park, before stopping for a pick-me-up at the Crown.

On the drive home, we stopped at the Golden Heart Inn, something I've been wanting to do for a long time. It won Pub of the Year in 2009, and it isn't hard to see why. There's such a great atmosphere, delicious food -- Tea and I ordered one roast beef and one turkey carvery, and shared them -- and a surprisingly-big patio area out back.

Carvery at the Golden Heart Inn

As luck would have it, we happened to be driving back as MacKay and Reid -- two friends from home -- were making their way to their hotel. I got out and led the guys to one of our favourite pubs, The Royal Union, while Tea dropped the car home and then joined us. We had a blast, catchin' up and chatting with the owner -- and giving his two dogs, Kelly and Lucy, lots of love; have I talked about how much I love that part of their culture lately? It's so natural, and... good for the heart, I guess you could say.

Another lie-in wouldn't've hurt either, after all that, but alas, that was the weekend.

Navidad en España

Our afternoon flight allowed us a nice, leisurely morning; we made it to Bristol with plenty of time to spare, even considering the long check-in line for Ryanair. What Bristol International Airport lacks in size, it makes up for in foot and air traffic; that little airport was simply hoppin' when we went through, and it was all the more chaotic with severe weather conditions closing airports in Northern England and the Netherlands. We were happy that our flight was only delayed an hour and a bit, and that they actually announced it early on (as opposed to the fifteen-minute intervals we were used to with Air Canada).

Thanks to careful packing, our checked luggage was under 15 kilograms and our two carry-ons were under 10 kg each, thereby avoiding a number of Ryanair's many surcharges. Once we boarded the plane, it was easy to see why they have to limit the size of carry-on luggage: it was as cramped as I've ever seen a plane – they don't even have pouches on the backs of their seats, 'cause there'd be no room for your knees! – and, with the free-for-all seating (198 seats!), it was even more chaotic than the terminal. At one point, Tea and I were thinking about offering our seats to a family of four, as the youngest son was terribly upset that he couldn't sit near his mom, who was across the aisle from us; however, eventually they sat him across the aisle from his older brother, which he seemed quite happy with.

I mean, don't get me wrong: the flight was fine; it's just that I'm not a big fan of air travel to begin with. And the prices really are worthy of all the talk they generate, particularly if you can take advantage of their deals. One final point: what's with the colour scheme, Ryanair? Honest to goodness, I felt like I was on an enormous life-raft for the entire flight; a sensation that's no doubt enhanced by the emergency information that's printed on the back of the seat rest, which, thanks to the cramped quarters, always takes up a large portion of your field of vision at any time. That said, it was a smooth flight, and we even managed to make up some time in the air.

Aside: O.K., I lied; one additional point: smokeless cigarettes. The image of a smiling stewardess walking down the aisle, asking, “Cigarettes?” as she offers the tray of glossy packs in her hands was one that I thought was relegated to the movies of my parents' day. I gather they contain some nicotine, but I can't imagine it's very satisfying; first of all, how do you know when you're done? And while I'm on the subject, the catalogue in Ryanair's magazine includes a USB-charged, smokeless cigarette. Have you seen this thing? Apparently, while the charge lasts, it produces a 'harmless' vapour – that allows you to blow authentic smoke rings, the ad highlights – that simulates the real experience; can't remember if they contain any nicotine. The charger was the best bit: it looked like a cigarette holder for your computer, and, hey, those jokes just write themselves.

The car rental went smoothly as well, considering we booked it the night before and required an automatic. (It's bigger than we would've liked – an Opel Astra – and semi-automatic, which means it drives much heavier than we're used to, but I think that, second only to our fantastic apartment, it, and the freedom it gives us, will really make this vacation.) It was well after dark by the time we got on the road, but since we took the A-7 all the way from Málaga to San Luis de Sabinillas, Tea had no problem with the drive. (They also drive on the right in Spain, which no doubt helped.)

The final leg of our journey, however, was anything but smooth. We found our way through Sabinillas with little difficulty, but quickly realized that we'd failed to grasp the extent of the construction going on around our apartment complex, Arenal Duquesa: nobody, and I mean no one, was about, and most of the windows were dark; metal fences abounded; and there was little street lighting. Combined with the heavy rain, it was very eerie, to be honest. Worse still, there were many blocks of identical complexes, all gated, with no signs and few numbers to speak of. We really had no idea which complex was ours, and eventually decided to try our electronic fob on a random gate.

While I got a green light from the panel, the gate remained locked. Having driven around aimlessly for some time at that point, we decided to park the car on the road and see about exploring on foot. The pedestrian entrance associated with that gate didn't seem to work, but we found one further down the road that seemed to have a working keypad that accepted the code we were given. I should really pause here and note that it didn't look like more than five to ten percent of the apartments were occupied yet; the whole area felt like it was months from being ready for occupancy, to be honest, but we pressed on, in bull-headed fashion, really (upon reflection).

Since we'd been given directions to the apartment from the parking garage – it had been assumed that we'd find the appropriate gate and drive in – we went in search of the garage associated with the gate we'd just entered. The inner vehicle gate was down and locked, but the door off to one side was open, so in we went. The first thing that struck me was the lack of cars – none, to be precise – quickly followed by the few lights. As we explored, looking for the appropriate parking spot number, we passed all sorts of construction equipment, our footsteps echoing in the distance. We were out of sight of the door when we heard an enormous bang; it sounded like the wind might've caught it, but those few moments of doubt, surrounded by all those dark doorways (that would lead to the elevators at some point, but were just yawning empty then), had our hearts racing.

As we headed back to the first gate we'd tried – now inside the series of walled, attached complexes – we noted that the keypad on the pedestrian entrance was emitting a piercing alarm – and had been for some time, we realized – and the associated vehicle gate was now open to the street! Had we failed to wait long enough earlier? We had no idea, and were even more spooked to be standing around listening to this alarm that no one was paying attention to. Either way, we knew that even if this did turn out to be the right parking garage, this inner vehicle gate was still locked, and, unlike the other garage, we couldn't find another way in to explore.

Eventually, after we'd been wandering blindly in the rain for a good forty minutes, we spotted a man leaving his apartment to walk his dog. Luckily he had an excellent ear for English – and was even able to say a few words – such that we could confirm that we were in the right general area. However, the letters and numbers on our keyring were as foreign to him as they were to us (still are, in fact; they seem to bear no resemblance to the few numbers on the outside of the building).

We were a few minutes away from calling the owner of the apartment when we stumbled upon a vehicle gate leading to two separate parking garages. Like something out of an Indiana Jones or Mummy movie, Tea and I looked at each other and said, simultaneously, “A gate leading to two parkades!” – honestly, it's like our page of written instructions had become an ancient map to a long-buried treasure, and now, almost upon it, we were able to decipher the previously-cryptic direction markers. In all the confusion, we'd forgotten this key piece of information; all the outer vehicle gates to this point had led to one parking garage.

When we tried the fob on the outer gate, we got a green light again, but it also began to open. We ran down the ramp, sensing that we might soon be warm and dry, and quickly found our parking spot. From there we were able to locate the elevator, fumbling for the keyhole in the dark, thanks to poor lighting again, and finally, to the apartment itself.

There were other difficulties – the heating took a long time to kick in, which meant that the marble floors were unbearably cold, and, now getting on for 11 p.m., we couldn't get any groceries – but the worst was behind us. We couldn't help but laugh and shake our heads as we snacked on what food Tea had squirreled away in her carry-on throughout the day; as the kind gentleman who'd helped us said, we really set ourselves up for quite the first evening in Spain.

Up next: the rain in Spain...

Sapperton: "Are there bears in England?"

The day couldn't really decide what it wanted to be this morning, but that didn't stop us from tagging along on "one of Chad's little adventures," as his wife, Heidi, says; this one to the Sapperton Canal Tunnel, along the abandoned Thames and Severn Canal, just outside of Cirencester.





While that section of the canal was abandoned in the 20s, the area around the tunnel portal at Coates looks to be in great condition; as Chad said, "Give it a coat of paint 'n' it's good to go." The Daneway portal at the other end is a different story, however: you're hard-pressed to find the canal walls before you're even out of sight of it. It was a lot of fun to explore, though. The Daneway portal in particular didn't have as much standing water around it, and as you stood on the threshold, peering into the depths, you'd swear there was a crowd of explorers in there splashing about in the wellies, but for the absence of flashlight beams. There was no reply to Chad's shouts, however, and we busied ourselves with less spooky explanations for the voices we were sure we'd heard earlier as we made our way up the steep grade, toward what we learned was the steeple of St. Kenelm's Church. Any remaining tension was dispelled in the laughter that followed Chad's clear-blue-sky question, in what must've looked to him like a particularly wild part of the area around Sapperton: "Are there bears in England?"

I forgot to mention that all this hiking was possible thanks to bellies full of fantastic roast pork and beef from the Daneway Inn; it was a great little spot we found near the portal of the same name, after failing to find room at the picturesque Tunnel House pub near the Coates portal. Walking up to the Daneway, I felt like I was approaching the back porch of a familiar house -- like coming home or visiting old friends. The hodge-podge of furniture and knick-knacks only added to the sentiment. And as if that wasn't enough, they had four real ales on tap too. (Just realizing now that I forgot to take pictures there, darn it.)

We'd talked about going shopping in Gloucester or Bristol at some point, and as the sun was setting we did make it to the Costco in the latter -- just like home, strangely enough -- where I picked up a good fleece jacket for the cooler weather. Just a great day all-round.