Blame the Queen

The other day we were rootless, just scratching our itchy feet (which I learned means; urge to travel) in a little, covered market. As I was paying for my scarf complained about how the currency here in this country just does not make sense. The young worker looked at me with a sharp face and simply stated "Don't blame me, blame the Queen", why that made me laugh so much is a mystery. But it did. Now every time something goes wrong, or their is an opportunity to use the phrase 'blame the queen' it is sure to be said.

On our last weekend trip we stopped at an old battle field location. Again, I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. What was delivered to my sight was beautiful lush grounds. In a three tier set up the fighting grounds were bold. Imagining being stabbed to death on such a beautiful plot of ground was quite an interesting thought, we all know I would have been the one to die in the battle, I'd be staring off into the distance at the scenery then all of a sudden, slice, I am dead. It brought to my attention how weird a sward fight actually would be. You have an opponent, but it isn't like you can just stab them in the throat and be done with it. It has to be a long cling, clanging, battle. Trying to smite an arm or leg, anything to wound your opponent enough that he gives up and you can then stab the bloody guts out of him, disturbing I know, but so true...