Today I discovered that I have the power to move people with my words. Well, families with small children, more specifically. It was our first full day in Cardiff, and I’d read about an open air museum called St Fagans Museum and a few of us decided to walk there (a solid hour and a half walk from the hostel) because there was an event going on called the wicker man, where everyone stands around a field and screams so the evil spirits go hide (I would hide from 50 odd screeching children too) in the giant man made out of straw in the middle of the field. Then you burn that shit to the ground and destroy all those spirits. All the ashes fall from the sky, which freaked some people out, but I comforted everyone by explaining that by the time they get to the ground they aren’t hot anymore. About 5 seconds later, that wasn’t the case. An ember fell on me, burned through my jacket, got caught in my sleeve, kept burning more holes as well as me, and I yelled FUCK WHAT THE FUCK HOLY SHIT FUCK FUCK FUCK. I still believe it was 100% justified, but the family beside us was incredibly quick to relocate. I get that screaming fuck 5 consecutive times in a crowd of children isn’t appropriate but I think the circumstances made it a forgivable offence. I’m trying real hard to think of the burn holes in my jacket as a form of ventilation but who needs to air out their forearm? At the end of the day though, we got to scream at a burning straw man, see some old buildings, kill some evil spirits, and walked over 20km, which I think is worth a few minor burns.
October 30, 2016