Hoovers and Gogs

We're on the M1 heading back from Cheshire. Nathan's sister has recently departed the Land of my Fathers and is now living with her husband-to-be, Julius, in a beautiful modern house made of reclaimed bricks on the edge of a charming village called No Man's Heath. How cool is that name? As we drove up the M6, I was beavering away on a song in Brass called No Man's Land, so our destination felt particularly relevant. There are some brilliantly named British villages, aren't there? My three personal favourites are Pity Me (the most neurotic village), Shingay-cum-Wendy (the campest village) and Cold Christmas (the most romantic village.) The rudest is, of course, Twatt, on the Shetland Islands, but I've never been there. Feel free to get in touch with any other weird or wonderful village names, real or imagined!

I'm a little sad that Sam is no longer living in Wales. It's difficult for me to imagine not being able to have such regular Goggy top-ups. Visiting Wales is an itch I have to scratch periodically.

So, today's gathering was to wish Sam and Julius well as they depart on their wedding-cum-holiday-of-a-lifetime, which will see them riding Harley Davisons the full length of Route 66. The wedding itself takes place at the Grand Canyon. Cher and Meat Loaf can, frankly, eat their hearts out! Here was me thinking that we'd got the monopoly on awesome and unique weddings! #totallyupstaged!

The Hoover Dam is, of course, just off Route 66. As we drove home this evening in ludicrously slow moving traffic, I asked if Nathan would ever want to see that particular feat of structural engineering. "I'm not sure..." He pondered for a moment, "although I'd like to meet the giant beavers that made it..." Quick as a flash, my husband!