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Posts Tagged ‘shrewsbury’

After all of this time of Tom getting to see how I live, meet my family, and hear all of the wonderfully embarrassing stories of my life, even experiencing some of them (i.e. Getting stuck on the roof, being spotted naked by the tree cutters from my bedroom window, getting towed, etc.) I finally get my turn.

As I said goodbye to Joan and Peter I was given a run down on the proper pronunciation on all words english. Even though, Tom has always pronounced Shrewsbury as Shrewsbury, I learned from Peter it is actually supposed to be pronounced Shroosbury. Peter than went off on one of his many tangents of English history explaining the “proper” pronunciation of other commonly mispronounced words as Joan tried to get him off the subject. Loving every second of his explanation, watching as everyone was waiting him to finish, I finally interrupted not wanting to be late for the train.

My train traveling technique is to disregard where I am going and to look solely on the time then show up. This was working out great until I was on the train which was supposed to arrive at shrewsbury at 10:19 and I looked at my clock and it was 10:21. I texted Tom, asking if I missed my stop. He responded with, “I don’t know. Have you?” No worries, while I was busy working away on my dissertation on my computer I missed the fact that we were on a four minute delay. When I got off the train I couldn’t find Tom and texted him again, thinking he was playing a mean trick on me. Wrong again. He just didn’t realize I would be wearing heels – or at least what I consider to be heels, meaning two inch heels on my boots. No worries, I explained to him, Lindsay is just another soldier in the war of trying to make me a girl and they took up too much space in my bag anyway.

Tom’s house is awesome. It was so great to be around a busy home! With four boys running around, a dog and two cats there was always something going on. I loved it!! To be around a mom was even better! It made my home not seem so far away. Jo, Tom’s mom, was incredible and sweet and had the best accent ever.

On Tuesday, Tom and I climbed Haughmond Hill where I learned what nettles are and not in a nice way. “Watch out for the nettles,” Tom warned me. I had heard Joan mention nettles on our walk through the Heath so I decided I would ask Tom what Nettles were. He told me to touch one. Nervous, I carefully let my pointer finger graze the top of the plant. I looked up at him and said, “what? It’s soft.”

“Touch it again,” he told me. As I reached for the plant again Tom pushed my arm into the plant and I jumped up as the plant stung the sides of my arm. If I had the ability to scream I may have done so.

“Those are nettles,” he said walking on. “You’ll get  bumps from it.”

sad face for my arm

gross

Twenty minutes, sure enough, my arm looked diseased. What Tom failed to tell me was the remedy for the nettles sting is a small plant that grows next to it. Tricked again!

The view of Shrewsbury was great and reminded me a little bit of the drive to Athens. After we went to visit the quarry. The quarry was massive!

The view from Tom's camera phone because i'm an idiot and forgot my camera.

The quarry

Jo took us out to lunch at place in Battlefield (if any of the Noakes fam can correct this please do) where I had the best sandwich I have eaten the entire time I’ve been on this island. I mentioned I love the candy here and Double Decker’s are my favorite candy bar and Jo bought me an entire pack! Oh, moms! How I miss them. I honestly can not express how wonderful it was to be mothered for a couple of days. I will never take my mom for granted again. Tom and I stuck around Battlefield where we made friends/enemies with some goats.

Our new friends

Then I got to see the church where his parents were married. It was beautiful. It seemed to be the perfect set-up for a movie English wedding. After visiting Tom I can’t imagine why anyone would want to move to the states.

The church where Tom's parents got married

The church where Tom's parents got married

We went on a tour of Shrewsbury based on his mom’s reccommendations, most of which were places Tom didn’t know about even though he’s lived there his entire life. This made it more fun as he kept saying “oh, that’s probably what my mom was talking about,” “I never knew this was here,” etc. The town was more idyllic than I could have imagined. It was like a much, much classier version of Athens, reminding me of the small town Maggie and I stayed in when we visited Philadelphia. The buildings were old and leaning in towards each other. Flowers lined the roads hanging from the buildings or sitting out front in full bloom. Later we went to The Dingle (poor name choice in my opinion) which was a small garden hidden in the park.

The Dingle. Gorgeous!

HAHAHA! (is it inappropriate for me to think this is funny? probably)

As we all know, I don’t sleep. Well at least not much. So when I heard Murphy, the healthiest dog I have ever met, crying to be let out I went downstairs. I want to preface this with Murphy knows how to open up the kitchen door and when forgets to shut it, all you have to say is “door” and he goes back and shuts it. Apparently at night he lets the cats in and out of the kitchen door house so no one has to get up from their beds. Best trick ever. I don’t think he can open the door from the washroom to the outside, which has a cat door, and that’s why he cries. This is all beside the point. On Wednesday I woke up to let Murphy out and Boggle, the cat, left a present on the door mat. A dead mouse. This is why I don’t like cats. I don’t like dead mice. I like mouse traps where they kill the mice in secret and you never have to see it. If the door is closed to the trap that means it has a tenant and then you wait for your dad to come home and dispose of it. I leaned over the rug to the door handle and let Murphy out then spent ten minutes contemplating what I’m supposed to do with the dead mouse. I decided to leave it. I don’t like cats.

On Wednesday, Tom and I visited his grandma where she took us out for lunch with Phil and Steven. Tom’s grandma is sooo cute. She gave me a tour of her house which I fell in love with, showing me all the nicks and crannies, then took me to her garden where we picked strawberries and raspberries. She wanted me to have an authentic visit, knowing we don’t have the same sort of thing in the states. My favorite part was how she continued to call me “our American friend” which was hilarious.

It was a great trip! The only disappoint was being informed they bought a puppy then to learn they had to wait another week before they could pick him up. It’s all right because I got my doggy fill with Murphy who at 11 years old is at fit as Leary.

Murphy sleeping as awkwardly as Leary does

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