Sheepish Sheep and Slags Scrapping

I woke up to Chloe's dog George in my face, licking me mercilessly. Marc and I booked a flight to Ireland for Monday, along with a hostel. It's going to be a great adventure.

We took a walk uphill, through farmers fields. The sheep would run away when they noticed us. We got to the top of a hill that had a beautiful view, but the grey skies made the photographic results underwhelming.

George is a Patterdale Terrier 

Sheep, Bahhhhhhhh.

George digging for moles 

Me on a hill in Great Harwood Lancashire

Elderly People Fisting Sign

Chloe got some great news, her application for British citizenship has been approved! She made a great pasta dish for Tea (Apparently "Tea" means "Dinner", making a "brew" means "Tea", and they call it English).

After "Tea" we went on a family pub crawl to celebrate Chloé becoming a loyal British subject. The first pub Walmesley Arms, had a guy playing Wonderwall on acoustic guitar. I guess Oaisis is still a respected bunch of wankers band here in England.

Marc and I

Me and Chloé

The second pub, Cross Axes, had more lasers than one would expect. The fog machine was excessive for such a small place. They even had a pole on stage, which I'm sure has seen some nasty nights.

Me and Marky at yet another pub

We closed out the night at Baggy's Wine Bar. A full on cat-fight broke out between two slags, complete with hair pulling and rolling on the floor. When the lights came up and the girls were pulled apart one called out "Where's me Ma!?!". I offered Marc a broken heel as a souvenir. Some old dude wanted to show Chloé his muscles, causing Marc to flex his own. She later told us that he had pulled her hair. Marc said he would have fought the ol' bastard had he known. We had seen enough violence for one night.
 

Chloé and Marc at Baggy's Wine Bar