The Cows at the Airport

Today we visited hospitals in Manchester, Macclesfield, and Blackburn. Traffic around here has tended to be quite hellish which means we are always pushing it for time. Some of our visits seemed booked a little too close together. The hospital at Blackburn was especially interesting. It is the highest point in Yorkshire, and the entire hospital was surrounded by gorgeous countryside. One of the guys even told us a story about a murder of a couple of little girls in one of the old buildings next to the hospital. He said afterwards they fingerprinted all of the men in town and found the killer. It was the first time in England the public had been fingerprinted like that.

On the way back to Manchester (where we were spending another night at Bewleys Hotel), we decided to go to a restaurant we had driven by a couple of times. We could not remember exactly where it was, but we knew it was between Manchester and Macclesfield. Well Melinda (what we lovingly named our pretentious sat nav director with a british accent and a slight lisp) takes a different way each time. So we didn’t find it until we got very lost and reset her. We were in the middle of nowhere, and she said we had arrived at the Manchester Airport. We got hysterical. We were sitting in this dirt driveway of a farm staring at the cute little cows. Finally we found our way and made it to the restaurant. It was well worth all of the trauma. The reason we had to go there was it had the same name as the project we were working on for this trip. Annemari and I tried to get a couple of the t-shirts the waiters wore, but they did not sell them. Industrious Annemari managed to buy one from one of the waitresses that she happened to have in the car.