Halav tziporim

Today was largely spent in the company of mrs. anglosaxy's tribe in a trip up north. They hired a coach and a driver and headed for Zichron Yaacov. They've done a few of these trips before, but I'd always managed to wangle my way out...this time I'd already promised a few days ago while under the influence of a few beers, so I thought I'd better go. As you probably know by now, my in-laws are usually great, it's just when they get the whole tribe together it gets a bit daunting...

Wasn't so bad, but that might be down to the free-flowing ouzo and beer; poppa anglosaxy sure knows how to host a coach trip. I managed to get a seat at the back of the bus with the rest of the 'bad boys', and what with my family connections, was soon being plied with 'halav tziporim' (birds milk, or in other words, ouzo). Despite the number of shots I downed, I refute any claim that I might have accidentally tapped my fingers to an Eyal Golan song. The weather was great all day, despite the reported threats of torrential downpours and we managed to see quite a few different sites, in and around Zichron (which I'm sure is a much nicer place to visit midweek, rather than on a Saturday).

Not too sure I'll be running to put my name down for the next bus trip, but at least I know what to expect...