Dad Diaries: #8

We toured almost daily and hiked when we could. The roofs are torn off a few of the castles to avoid taxation, so some of the sites are quite dangerous. Did this stop us? Heck, No! Aunt Rita, attired in dresses, heels and accessories, led the way. Daddy had told Joan and I "No Blue Jeans!" for the trip, but we were dressed very casually.

One site was very remote and on a steep overlook. The wind was whistling through the open roof and windows. It was incredibly beautiful and we spent a long time there, poking around, pondering what life must've been like so many centuries ago. When we left, we got a bit turned around and ended up going through a marshy area. Joan, Uncle Billy and I followed Aunt Rita through a maze of high reeds, bushes and scruffy grass. Daddy decided to take the easy path - "Well, look at that road!" he exclaimed, and leaped wtih his long legs to get to it. Rita looked up and went to shout a warning - too late! Daddy had landed in a mud pit, and had to keep leaping to get out of it. Every step deposited a larger layer on his hiking shoes. By the time he got out of the muck, his shoes resembled cartoon boots - hugely oversized and heavy. He dragged them to firm ground and collapsed, laughing. It took us ten minutes to clean them up enough for him to get in the car.

Uncle Billy and Dad decided that we had to go pub crawling after that, as the only shoes Daddy had left were fancy dress shoes. Joan and I groaned about 'having' to go to the pubs - but were delighted once we got there. Who knew they would be full of attentive, handsome young men?! We played darts, listened to stories tumbling out one after another told in their charming accents and turned down many pints and cigarettes. Billy, Rita and Dad had to drag us out of every one of them.