Local time: about 8:00PM, Monday the 11th

The B&B we've stayed in here in Telford is lovely. It's very, well, English:

Of course, the centerpiece of English civilization (Oops– I mean civilisation) is the pub. And there are about three of them within walking distance of the B&B. The one my friends prefer is called "The Bird in Hand", and it's the farthest of the three. But last night we decided to check out the one next door to it, called "Robin Hood". What a night we were in for.

First of all, it was their monthly musician's jam night. Your typical amateur folk music gathering. One guy on guitar and banjo, and older one on fiddle, and a woman with a flute and accordian, who also occassionally sang. But later on, two guys came over and specifically invited the five of us to come over and join them. They were so intrigued by the large-ish group of Californians, that they started fishing around for American songs to sing. While the rendition of "Blowin' in the Wind" was pretty good, "All Along the Watchtower" was just plain painful.

One character, called Rich, was definately what they would call a "nutter" in local parlance. Dude was flakier than pastry wrapping on the Cornish Pasty I tried. Of course, our friend Mike is just as bad, and the two hit it off famously. When we left at 9:00 or so, pleading our early morning as reason for the early night, Mike stayed. We later found that he left 2 hours (and 2 more pints) later.

In an unusual move for me, I decided to get into the spirit of things by having a pint of Guiness, my first. Not too bad, but I think most beer is an acquired taste. And if I haven't acquired the taste by now, I probably never will.