Croquetmania has bitten the band. We'll be importing it to the states - namely, Elysian Park - in short order, to be played on one of the days we're not already meeting at Burger King at 7 am to play gin rummy 500.
Stayed 2 nights at our new friend Dean's honest-to-Jehu farm in semirural Leighton Buzzard (which is a town, and somehow not the name of a forgotten 70's British metal band). Made peace with cows, played sherpa with sheep, grilled mackerel and pork shoulder and adopted croquet, or our own version of it, until long after dark, and again at the crack of dawn. Didn't watch any World Cup. It made us feel good.
Now we're in Wolverhampton, scene of our last show with Band of Horses. They're dudes of the best variety - genuine, beer-battered country-fried ones - and we wish them the best of luck on their journey.