I would first like to thank my readers. I have been reading all of the comments, and I appreciate them all. Please leave more, feedback is good. I also appreciate those who take the little time to visit the sites of my sponsors above. Don’t forget, the more help you give me, the more I can go out and afford various adventures to blog about. It is a winning situation for us all.
I recently posted new pictures of my trip to Bath:http://picasaweb.google.com/RossDMcKinney/BathJanuary262008
And an evening on the beach right across the street from the University campus: http://picasaweb.google.com/RossDMcKinney/SwanseaBayBeachWithSophia
My friends, I think I am considering another blog, this one dealing exclusively with my encounters with the many and fine pubs of good ol’ Wales. I’ll keep you posted on that too.
Today was rather uneventful, really. I had an absolutely horrible lecture in history. The lecturer was extremely hard to understand, I think she is from The Netherlands or something, definitely not somewhere where English is spoken regularly. And she reads directly from a prepared speech with little inflection or audience engagement. Trying to learn about the Ottoman Empire with names like Suleiman the Magnificent is hard enough without a language/acoustic barrier. She promised lecture notes online though, so hip-hip-hooray.
I think I want to go to Constantinople or somewhere exotic though. Somewhere where my dollar will buy me more than a small bag of potato chips (crisps over here). Maybe Northern Africa. Peerman will go with me, I’ll be sure to avoid looking quite as foolish with him around. He’ll take care of that department.
Yesternight was another Real Ale Society meeting, a true gem of a time, too. Gwyn went
with me, this time to the Queens Hotel, near the marina. To be honest, I didn’t enjoy the bitter I had too much, I only tried it and luckily didn’t have to pay for the whole pint. I did however enjoy the distinct privilege of many a pint of “Old Peculiar.” The gents of the society, who I am getting to know very well and enjoy the company of, spoke very highly of it. One went as far as to claim that “it is consistently the best ale around.” And it was very delicious. It was dark, but didn’t have the bitter/acrid taste often accompanied by the heavily roasted malt that gives dark ales their color and taste. It was smooth and had a great mouthfeel. The finish wasn’t too longlasting, but it did give a nice end to the satisfying sip.
Gwyn and I stayed and talked to the guys for a very long time, so long in fact that we were required to walk back to campus as the bus service had ended for the night. It was worth it though. My new English and Welsh mates are teaching me a lot about the culture and how we Yanks often have got it all wrong.
Some sample items of discussion:
How American Football players are hardly athletes due to their ridiculous amount of resting time between plays.
How Rugby is far manlier, due to the constant running and non-stop action, complete with just as much hitting and virtually no helmets or other protections.
Whether Bare-ick or Mrs. Clinton is more suitable for the job.
The peculiar pronunciation of the numbers 7 and 11 by a Welsh member of the society: sort of like Ss-heh-ven and Ee-hleh-ven.
These guys are great. They laugh a lot and know how to have a good yet reasonably responsible time. More on that later, I’m sure. Oh, and Stonehenge tomorrow. That just leaves crop circles, Loch Ness, and Bigfoot on my list.
I recently posted new pictures of my trip to Bath:http://picasaweb.google.com/RossDMcKinney/BathJanuary262008
And an evening on the beach right across the street from the University campus: http://picasaweb.google.com/RossDMcKinney/SwanseaBayBeachWithSophia
My friends, I think I am considering another blog, this one dealing exclusively with my encounters with the many and fine pubs of good ol’ Wales. I’ll keep you posted on that too.
Today was rather uneventful, really. I had an absolutely horrible lecture in history. The lecturer was extremely hard to understand, I think she is from The Netherlands or something, definitely not somewhere where English is spoken regularly. And she reads directly from a prepared speech with little inflection or audience engagement. Trying to learn about the Ottoman Empire with names like Suleiman the Magnificent is hard enough without a language/acoustic barrier. She promised lecture notes online though, so hip-hip-hooray.
I think I want to go to Constantinople or somewhere exotic though. Somewhere where my dollar will buy me more than a small bag of potato chips (crisps over here). Maybe Northern Africa. Peerman will go with me, I’ll be sure to avoid looking quite as foolish with him around. He’ll take care of that department.Yesternight was another Real Ale Society meeting, a true gem of a time, too. Gwyn went
with me, this time to the Queens Hotel, near the marina. To be honest, I didn’t enjoy the bitter I had too much, I only tried it and luckily didn’t have to pay for the whole pint. I did however enjoy the distinct privilege of many a pint of “Old Peculiar.” The gents of the society, who I am getting to know very well and enjoy the company of, spoke very highly of it. One went as far as to claim that “it is consistently the best ale around.” And it was very delicious. It was dark, but didn’t have the bitter/acrid taste often accompanied by the heavily roasted malt that gives dark ales their color and taste. It was smooth and had a great mouthfeel. The finish wasn’t too longlasting, but it did give a nice end to the satisfying sip.Gwyn and I stayed and talked to the guys for a very long time, so long in fact that we were required to walk back to campus as the bus service had ended for the night. It was worth it though. My new English and Welsh mates are teaching me a lot about the culture and how we Yanks often have got it all wrong.
Some sample items of discussion:
How American Football players are hardly athletes due to their ridiculous amount of resting time between plays.
How Rugby is far manlier, due to the constant running and non-stop action, complete with just as much hitting and virtually no helmets or other protections.
Whether Bare-ick or Mrs. Clinton is more suitable for the job.
The peculiar pronunciation of the numbers 7 and 11 by a Welsh member of the society: sort of like Ss-heh-ven and Ee-hleh-ven.
These guys are great. They laugh a lot and know how to have a good yet reasonably responsible time. More on that later, I’m sure. Oh, and Stonehenge tomorrow. That just leaves crop circles, Loch Ness, and Bigfoot on my list.
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