Still not a chicken burger

This has just been a fantastic day. I had the great idea of going to Cardiff to see the graffiti art supporting Ukraine. It appeared last week and I think it is absolutely stunning. I saw it in my newsfeed and admired it, before realizing that it is in Cardiff. I thought we should go see it; I wondered if we were home and it was in Minneapolis if I would think we should go see it. (Of course I would think we should. We wouldn’t, but I would think we should.) We got up early (Keith always does, job-like, but I do not. I do get up. Not early.) and took the train, because we are so very good at training now. We only had a bit of a walk to find the lane and the lane was only two blocks long. No art. I kept saying that they must have painted over it, which is entirely ridiculous, because why in the world would anyone paint over new, beautiful art. (The only thing I could think was that it was like an installation – see it, then it is gone. Poof.) The lane turned – it said no cars beyond that point, but it was sorta the same street. Keith was sure we would find it. And he was right. (There was no one else there; it made sense that people were doing other things at 9am on a Tuesday morning, a week after the art appeared, but it was somehow surprising to me. I kinda wanted to say to everyone I saw on the streets later – hey, did you see the art?) It is a lane of much graffiti, but nothing rivaling this piece. I just stood and stared at it for a while. It must be air brushed, not spray painted (not that it matters at all), but I really can’t wrap my head around someone being able to just paint that on the back of a garage in a short period of time.

After I finished looking, I decided we should walk to John Lewis, a big department store. It took a while to walk there (first with me complaining about my left hamstring hurting, then switched up to my right knee hurting. It’s good to have variety). It is a 4 story department store and we thoroughly enjoyed looking at Easter candy, games, toys, and housewares on the ground floor. There were many, many washers to choose from, and four dryers. And a washer/dryer combo. The best thing was a spinning sphere for your garden. My theory is that you can turn it so that you can face it away from the rain, because it doesn’t have a door. Otherwise, I guess you just play rotating dining room. I want one. I wonder where I would put it. I vaguely remember having a house. And a yard. (I definitely remember the pool.)

The map app told us to walk through the connected mall, which I was happy to do. We had no time to stop and look, but we made time to stop for Krispy Kreme. The guy was surprised we didn’t have KK near us, then said, Oh, because you are Canadian. (I really like when they think we are Canadian. I think Canadians are nice.) We scurried along, eating as we went. Mine was Rolo – filled with caramel. OMGG (oh my god good). We talked about the fact that people seem to walk on the left (as well as drive on the left), and that we need to be mindful and not run them off the sidewalk. Some of us got that faster than others. (Look how nice I am being by not saying who.)

We trained back for Keith to work and me to finish a dandy fine book. And text with friends. And fall asleep because I was upstairs, not being in the way of work, so therefore on the bed, and therefore napping. I forgot to tell you yesterday that when we went to get a ride to band, Keith told Gwyn that he had been in a parade. Gwyn said, “I saw you!” What? He knows the guy from the Treorchy area that Keith was talking to after the parade, and that guy, Alan, put the band on FB. Gwyn saw it and said, “Look, that guy looks just like Keith, but it can’t be Keith because what would he be doing in a parade. He would have told us if he was playing with another band.” Unbelievable and delightful.

We met Gwyn and Helen for dinner. We were going to go next door, because we wanted to patronize the restaurant as well as live in their guest house. They were not serving dinner, because the cook had gotten burned and was at the hospital. Oh no! I will check in tomorrow. I hope very much that it is not serious. We walked down two blocks to The Lion. Helen and I sat on the banquette and the men sat across. They were deeeeeep into talking bands and soprano cornets and trumpets and music, so Helen and I talked about Megan Markle (not fans), our kids, cornet playing husbands, and everything else. When we ordered, Helen said she was having a Louisiana chicken burger, as she had never had a chicken burger. We told her it should not be called a Louisiana burger (take a second to think about what you think it should have on it if it should be called a Louisiana burger)(I will sing the Jeopardy song while you think)(okay, I’m done. Pause reading if you are still thinking). It had chicken, cheese, bacon, and barbeque sauce. No Louisiana there. Kansas, maybe. Gwyn and Keith ordered at the bar, as is customary, in two separate orders. Gwyn and Helen’s came a few minutes before ours. Helen’s definitely looked as described, but had no bun. I asked her if she wasn’t expecting a sandwich. She didn’t really hear me, because a group of 9 was next to us being very loud. It looked right, bacon and BBQ. She mostly didn’t want the peas that were plentiful on her plate. Ours came and Keith’s was a sandwich. He had ordered Korean dirty chicken – it was listed under mains and he wasn’t expecting a sandwich. It was supposed to have chorizo, pulled pork, cheese, and chicken. It took them the entire meal to figure out that they ate each other’s meal. Keith tasted Helen’s and said his was good, but hers was better. Helen has still never had a chicken burger.

We walked home (they live around the corner)(Helen saw me walk by on my way to cemetery yesterday. I told them I thought if I got locked in, I would have to text Keith, who would have to call Gwyn to have him find the right people to let me out. Gwyn knows everyone) and said our goodbyes. Ooooh! What? I am not good at Goodbyes. (Helen said she has learned so much from us – Minnesota goodbye, 45 instead of using that man’s name, and people live in houses made of wood because that is what there is. She always wonders why when tornados hit the houses are all made of wood.)