We ate at an English pub tonight for dinner. I have serious concerns about the fact that my oldest is already more than a budding Anglophile. She loves their history, their sports, their music and their accents. Watch out handsome boys from the UK who may take a fancy to my child...do not take her to a foreign country and keep her there. Now if you want to fly your inlaws in or buy them a vacation home in your country, um, I'll think about it. Think. So, anyhoo, we ate at this English pub and had a lovely Scotsman as our waiter. The family got typically Anglicized American fare. I mean, do they call it a New York strip over there? Maybe. I really wanted to get a Scotch egg, but I feared the exploding of the hub's head from the consumption of a sausage covered, deep fried hardboiled egg. So I opted for the surf and turf, so to speak. Steak and fish from the fish and chips. The hub's head still exploded, because I think it is the first time I have ever ordered fish in a restaurant. I've gotten plenty of seafood, but never fish and scales with meat underneath it kind of fish. I wanted the kids to try it. It was pretty tasty, but G wasn't a fan. She did form a bit of a bond with our waiter, who could have been her grandfather. She has a way with people.
I am headed to bed, my friends. My feet and brain are tired. And that is a very strange feeling....
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