Wading in the Ocean in Kilts: YES

The champagne-tinted moon hung low and full in the night sky, brushing the tips of the trees and resting on the McDonald's sign while our car paused at a stoplight.

That sentence has been circling my brain continually since last night, waiting to be written. Several weeks ago I wrote a

piece on one of my UK Trip meetings at the London Tea Room, this time our meeting was at the Hall's lovely and snack-laden

abode. Those lemon bars, strawberries, and brownies were just amazing.

I don't have very muchness of time to write right now, but here

are my educational and intelligent notes from the late

half of the trip meeting:

NOTES

“…and possibly encounter scotish people.”

“They might be hiding behind the wall?”

“Oh yes. They are like ninjas, you know.”

…laughter…

“That’s what everybody has said!”

Oy, lets go fetch some wee kilts in Scottyland!

Lakes…

“In the know” for Loch Ness

Many walls is England. They couldn’t keep us in, though!

Happy, happy hat!

“Foooouuuuuurrrrr! Four Four!”

More lakes…

So many snacks, so many choices, so many drinks, can’t reach

a single one. For the want of a lemon there was agony.

HOT AIR BALLOON

Look up the London Dungeon at home.

We’re playing travel Clue!

The Roman Ruins: Will we see ruined Romans?

England: A Lotta Stuff

Brianna’s Siblings: “…the food lured out the local wildlife.

David even got to help in the extraordinary process of feeding the beasts. They

ate sun chips, lemon bars, carrots, brownies, and their father. Excuse me, I

mean they brought the father with them. Opps, there they go, scared by all the

people. The father ate a lemon bar, tomatoes, strawberries, grapes, and some other

snack goodies. David did not help feed him.”

Dad and Mr.Tate are whispering in the corner…about diapers?

The boarder of Whales. Is it made of Whales?! We must see

WHALES! (As in the animals)

Bad, bad David. Choosing a 2. He should have been a 5.

“Baah.” – Deborah

Charlieissocoollike…I show my love by stalking you…

King Offa: The Greedy King. He kept building walls.

Sorry Offa: Your pikes just aren’t attractive enough for us.

You’re dirt to us. And a mound at that.

Do we actually get to Bathe is Bath? And is it’s sister town

Shower? Also, if you are travelling in Bath, are you technically bathing?

Bath: A tourist’s excuse to go skinny-dipping. Also, the

true story behind sightings of the Loch Ness Monster?

“I’m sure they would think we were students.” – David

Would they? SO that means my Mom is a student mother?

Fashion Museum: Joel wants to go.

Deb is licking the Hall’s couch. Do I want to know? …no, its

funnier this way.

“Those children get great discounts!” – Joel, an angry

non-child

Longleat: YES. JUST SAY YES.

“10 am to 5 pm…”

Is it just me or does that picture of the adorable little

boy on the wall have a white Styrofoam booger?

EVERYONE who reads this: Go youtube “Walk on the Wild Side”

David: “blah, blah, blah, blah blah, bal DOCTOR WHO, Bla-“

Us: “WHAT!? Doctor Who? YES!”

“Maiden. It needs love.” – Deb

THEY are still whispering. This is so annoying, WHAT ARE

THEY SAYING?!?

Reeeaally want a drink, but don’t want to pick through the

maze of people to get there. Arrgggg.

Now we are voting stuff off the island. NOT ST.IVES!

Whadda’bout homestays?

“We shouldn’t go to Edinburough.”

Deb: (Sad face)

“Stop using logic against Scotland!” – Deb

What is Brianna waving at…?

“What they should do is take bath…” – Mother Mary

NOW I will go get a drink. FINISHED!

…maybe finished. I won’t put away my sleeping-bag just yet.

Wait, the next meeting is at my house? Time to start hiding

the evidence! :D

END

As you can see, I was paying very close attention to the trip meeting. VERY close attention.

Anyway, must fly! I have far too much homework and far too little time to complete it. I am, you might say, in a jam.

Strawberry, I hope.

Mathematical Jelly,

-Hannah

The Road Tripper's Handbook to Loos

Finally home and loving the freedom of being here. Its funny the things you miss when away from home. For me, it was a long list. You, my own personalized princess and the pea bed, the freedom to be messy and toss my clothing to and fro, wi-fi, lounging in my PJ's, no need to make awkward conversation with barely related relatives, and most of all: our toilet. Go on, make that face all you want, but it's the truth, baby! Allow me to illuminate:

When spending the weekend on a road-trip and staying at my grandmum's house, toilets become memorable events. These are the classic case toilets encountered on a road trip (not for the faint of heart!):

MINE

This is, was, and forever shall be your home toilet. It is dependable, private, and a safe-haven in the scary world of pluming. It accepts you and will never hold a grudge, even after your Great-Great-Great Uncle Philly came to visit.

THE ZEN-ZERE FACILITY

One of the SICO's inside jokes for quite awhile now has been the Zen/Zere ordeal. If you don't know this story, just ask one of us. Anyway, this is a toilet that could be perfect except for it's one, very important Achille's heel: You cannot read the sign. For the life of you, you cannot figure out which door leads to the men's loo and which leads to the woman's loo. Maybe it is a themed joint and you are lost due to not knowing the different names for a male and female armadillo, or maybe the artist who designed the little Man and Woman pictures is a 5 ear old, either way you have to make a decision. Either you hold it and linger in a creep fashion to see which door other people use, or you take the plunge and choose blindly; the consequences be what may.

THE HOBO'S LOO

This bathroom is the stuff of nightmares. You can tell, just from walking in, that this is going to haunt you for years. Your first clue is the dangly strips oftoilet paper, sticking to the floor, walls, toilet, and ceiling. Puddles of unanurally colored soap have leaked out of their jammed dispensers, lying in wait for your wayward foot. Some prankster has switched the hot and cold knobs. Some other prankster, more logical in their scheming ways, flat out stole the sink. The stalls are a repulsive color and the vandal's facebook. Everything from "Jenny Loves Jimmy" to bad poetry has been carved into the plastic partitions. I would go on to describe the toilet, but I don't want to pay your psychiatrist bills later in life.

THE HOLY GRAIL

It has been a long, weary and toilet deprived day on the interstate. Sick of hearing your sibling's favorite Donut Man tape for the 45th time that day, you enter the gritty rest stop or fast food joint's bathroom, expecting to meet the uglier cousin of the loo you encountered at the rest stop two states back, a glorious surprise awaits you! Like a pearl of plumbing and hgenie, the bathroom is shining and fully stocked. You nearly cry as you admire the tastefull wallpaper, gasp in delight at the assortment of soaps and hand towels, surely hear an angelic choir sing out as you admire the shining throne of gold itself. Fainting may ensue depending on whether or not the toilet is really gold.(This has happened to me before.)

THE "OH!" RESTROOM

It looks innocent enough. There is daisy wallpaper, it looks fairly clean, and the building it's in isn't too questionable. You are just about to leave when you notice that what you had thought to be a travel size soap wall dispenser is meant to dispense a variety of other things. And are those really daises? Everything seems questionable now. You leave the bathroom a little more world-wise than you intended on entering.

GRANDMA'S HOUSE

You love your Gran to death, she really is the sweetest, kindest, most loving woman in the world. Her toilet, though? Don't trust it as far as you can throw a McDonald's mechanically separated "chicken" nugget. First of all, it has no door. It is more of a floor to ceiling shutter with wooden slats and no handle, making a sliding barrier that isn't sound proof or little sibling proof in the least. Second, you can't touch anything. Everything being as ancient as it is, you are justifiable afraid of touching, and thus breaking, anthing. You tiptoe, breath in shallow breaths, and only touch the light switch if you dare. The only window has a lovely, personal view of her neighbor's living room, spoiling their dinner and making for awkward encounters. The worst part, of course, is the loo itself. It isn't as much a toilet as it is a "water closet". A similar model was used in King Henry the 8th's castle, pretty sure. Flushing the toilet is a dangerous ordeal as well. You have to press lightly enough not to break it, hard enough to actually flush, and in just the right place or else tough luck. 5 times out of 10, assistance is necessary.

This is just a light sampling of the vast family of toilets. Gross, disturbing, and crude as it is, any hard core road tripper will testify to the afore-mentioned. Plus, whats the fun of seeing such terrible sights if you can't gross out your friends with the grim details? ;)

Green Eggs and Ham,

~Hannah