The land where fries are called chips, chips are called crisps, panties are called pants, and pants are called trousers.
It’s been a whirlwind week … 7 gigs, 4 radio shows, 1 malfunctioning rental car, 1 violent roadside vomit, 2 colds, too little sleep, too many pints, and heaps of wonderful folks. Needless to say, this is the first time I’ve had half a moment to open ye olde laptop for some good old fashioned phlogging.
I have lots to catch up on, so I figured the best way to start would be with a series of random photos from our first week across the pond (on Miss Quincy‘s 2011 UK/Euro Tour, that is).
Behold the aforementioned malfunctioning rental car. Zafira was with us for less than a day before her inner computer decided to go bonkers and make the throttle stick while on the Motorway into Glasgow during rush hour. RIP Zafira, nice getting acquainted with driving on the left side of the road with you.
Hats Meet Sharan
The Ponto and Quincy hats riding through a jolly gorgeous day in England on the dashboard of Sharan – our trusty new minivan-esque upgrade from Zafira the feisty mental machine.
Cruising Through Cumbria
Taking a wee roadside wee stop on the rainy, yet still gorgeous road through Cumbria.
One of my greatest gripes about living in Canada is the exorbitant cost of many of the things I enjoy most in life – like wine and cheese. So, instead of going without I just go to Europe once a year. In the photo below you’ll find a mouthwatering feast of Wensleydale with Cranberry (£1.39), Organic Cumberland Smoked Cheddar (£1.45 at 50% off = £0.72), Cornish Yarg (£2.05), and Cumberland Smoked (£2.38).
Looking surprisingly much less haggard than we actually are during a countryside cruise through Ribble Valley.
I have acquired far more photos of beer than is probably healthy for one’s collection in the past week, thanks in part to other JP’s mission to try (and blog about) as many different beers as she can. Here is just a teaser photo.
Some people indulge in shoes or cigarettes or opiates, but here at Chez JP our vice is hats. What started out as a wee penchant has spiraled into an addiction bigger than our hat boxes can handle. Perhaps one day our friends & family will stage an intervention and force us into a 12-step Mad Hatters Anonymous program, but until then here is a small sample platter of our collective hat whoredom:
More Mad Hatters at an obligatory pub stop along the way.
Wi-fi scavenger extraordinaire – yours truly outside of the mini-bus updating the very photoblog you’re perusing.
Would you be worried if this man passed out in the front seat of the mini-bus was your tour manager?
Behold a lovely Manx specimen (straight from the Isle of Man … a place that is home to some of the most colourful and ace gals in the galaxy)!
Miss Quincy and co.haven’t left her recording cabin in over a week and I’m starting to suspect they’re descending into the depths of cabin fever: