I Am Preparing to Cross the Atlantic

A few people have asked about the state of my noggin, since my last terse entry. Good news: my head is fine. Bad news: I barely dented the other guy's bat. (I count that as bad news since I pride myself on head strength.) After a day-long headache, I was back in business. Unfortunately, there's not a good story here; I wasn't hit very hard and I wasn't doing anything strange.

As I have mentioned once or twice, I'm going international on Wednesday evening. Thursday morning, I'm waking up in jolly olde (that's how they spell it) London. When we land, we're headed to our jolly olde hotel room, which I believe is around 8 to 9 square meters and costs only $85 a night. You say, "Heavens to Betsy, that sounds awful!" I say, "This is a deal that cannot possibly go wrong!"

We'll be in London for a few days, then we're going to Wales for a few days (the ancestral home of the Powells, which explains why the Welsh aren't really known for anything), then we're going to Scotland for a few days. It's an ambitious itinerary, and I'm pretty excited. The United Kingdom may not share the same excitement, as the dollar has cratered even more as compared to the pound. I suspect this is a concentrated effort to keep me out of the country. Luckily for me, I keep all liquid assets in Putt Putt tokens, which I call the new gold standard.

I'll be back on August 5th. I'll be poor, I'll be pale, and I'll probably be throwing around lots of phrases like toodlepip. I will also probably try to order haggis from Taco Cabana on my return, and get beat up in the process. These are the inevitable consequences of crossing the Atlantic; I'm man enough to face them all. I am also man enough to post one last time tomorrow, before I go hopelessly Anglo and sell my laptop for Mini Cooper decals.