FISH and CHIPS.

Flew to London, then jumped on the train down to Penzance - a total of 24 hours of travelling. Although happy to be back in the arms of the Huz, I'm majorly jetlagged and it ain't pretty. In fact I'm going to draw the Jetlag Monster just to get even. But first things first. A gal's got to have priorities after all. So here's a rare vlog from me about England's national dish: Fish and Chips.



Anyone who mentions "tiles" or "DIY" before this holiday is up gets a knuckle sandwich rather hard stare.

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Slug SLIME.

More stories about travelling around the UK this summer. At one point we headed for Wales. We spent a day romping around the lush, misty Welsh hills.... which are unbelievably gorgeous, especially in the rain. Atmospheric and... *magical*

Towards evening we went to hang out with our friend Brian (who used to play in my band back in the day - yeah, I'm a muso - and is an awesome guitarist who has even played with Marianne Faithful, how's that for name dropping). Anyways, we made our way back to his place.

Walking in, I took off my coat and boots, and suddenly found myself standing on something soft and squishy.

So I pull off my sock and there's this cute little slug curled up on it, hoping I won't notice.

Being basically kind-hearted, I gave the little guy a flying lesson into the neighbour's garden; stay tooned for a future animated post about that.

Days passed, and I forgot about El Sluggo. My laundry accumulated in my luggage and we eventually returned to Penzance, into the open arms of my MIL and her washing machine!

The sock got tossed into the wash with everything else and the machine did it's thing. Then the MIL pulled out my now soaking wet socks to hang dry, gave them a shake, and cheerfully proclaimed: "SLUG SLIME."

And guess what folks? It doesn't wash out. I even put the socks through the Extreme Cycle now we're back in Montreal. It dries up okay but as soon as the sock gets washed again, it reconstitutes into slime. This stuff is tough-tough-tough!
IT'S INDESTRUCTIBLE!!

So, of course I did what any person of slightly above average intelligence would do.
I tweeted for help. And got the following suggestions:

Salt.
Alcohol.
Burn them.
Throw socks in garbage.
Get new socks.

And the lovely @BloggerTalk sent some enlightening slug info.

But needless to say....

...the alcohol was the only thing that really helped.

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