Out of the hostel, Greyhound, cigarette, car, cigarette, Richmond KY, with just enough time to drop my stuff off before the rehearsal dinner, featuring a bunch more Brits a long way from home,
some gorgeous views,
and a well-fed cat convinced he's in charge of the whole thing:
(he may not be wrong).
Then it was on to the boozer, a fun Irish pub* which appears to be Richmond's only bar worth a damn, meaning it's got the full gamut of Southern stereotypes†. Plus a thankfully permissive attitude to an idiot Englishman who'd left his ID at home. I was briefly impressed by their savvy when I spotted that one wall had a huge display of An Phoblact front pages from the height of the Troubles - finally, an American Irish bar that actually has some clue about Ireland! - until I looked in the other direction:
Yep, um. That'd be the Red Hand of Ulster. Not sure how that goes down with whatever Irish clientele they have.
Anyway, that was all yesterday. Now it is today and in a couple of hours we'll have to drag ourselves away from the flagwaving-fest on TV** and head off for the WEDDING. Which is to be held outdoors. On a day when the forecast is for thunderstorms. How perfectly English it would be to have rain stop play.
*whose main concessions to Irishness beerwise were, um, London Pride and Newcastle Brown. Might want to work on that, guys
†and both kinds of music: country and western
**happy July 4th to such American readers as may care about such things!