Today, Part Two.

We all parted ways, Olwen and her husband Trefor, me and my dad. They were very complimentary, and we planned to meet again an hour before prelims on Wednesday. I will be competing against ten or eleven other mezzos on Wednesday, and a portion of those will go on to Thursday’s competition. I don’t know if it will be a set number, or just singers of certain quality. Friday… I’m not even going to think about Friday. Thinking about Friday is like thinking about winning the lottery. ;}

Dad and I found the restrooms and found ourselves (some rather expensive) food. I drank a coke, so very tired and craving the caffeine. We split a beautiful buttered scone. I had yogurt. We both had lasagna with Welsh beef. He had a salad. It was good.

And then we headed out, stopping only to purchase two brilliant bottles of Welsh whisky (wisgi Cymreig) at the Penderyn booth. The incredibly convenient Penderyn booth. And I thought I’d have to find myself a liquor store!

Oh, they’re just beautiful. I can’t wait to get them home and have some. Beautiful, beautiful. Watch this, I will build it up in my head and then be disappointed when I finally get another taste! Ridiculous.

They gave me two beautiful whisky glasses with my two beautiful Penderyn bottles – fitting for the whisky girl to start a little collection. Seriously, the Penderyn utterly outshines the Bushmills I bought in Ireland. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a pain. But it was just amazing.

Duties are paid on both bottles, and they said I shouldn’t have any problem in customs, that it was no big deal. Needless to say, I was incredibly pleased.

Maybe I will be the wisgi girl! (Merch wisgi??)

We left. I carried my black bag (the excellent tote that Cheryl sent!) with my music and purse in it; Dad carried the two slick bags containing the whisky and glasses. He tripped over his feet once and my breath caught in my throat, thinking not of broken kneecaps on daddies, but of broken bottles and burning hundred dollar bills.

I’m such a bad daughter.

We switched bags. He carried my tote; I carried the whisky. Oh, I know you can guess what happened next. Five minutes later, I tripped over my feet, broken bottles and burning hundred dollar bills, narrowly saving my precious cargo from its imminent destruction. Dad laughed and laughed and laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

It was funny.

We left the field, exhausted. We made it to the bus with almost no margin for error. I didn’t want to wait another half hour for the next one. We sat in sideways seats, so that every time the bus went around a rightwards curve, we had to clutch at the handles to keep from being pitched to the other side of the bus. I kept one hand carefully on all the bags, just beside me. We made it back to the bus station, and walked home to the hotel.

So tired.

On the bus ride home, we went right past the church I need to find for my Wednesday prelims. I saw the sign: Seion Newydd. That’s Capel Seion Newydd, Chapel Zion New, New Zion Chapel. I still don’t know how to find my way back, but I’m pretty sure if I pop in a taxi and show them money, they’ll find it for me.

I got back, feeling like dying, wanting to go to bed but knowing that would be insane, at six pm. Mom and Grandma came downstairs eventually and asked me to come to dinner, so I did. We went to the Wild Swan, just down the block. It was very good, though I didn’t eat very much. We brought leftovers back for Dad, and I set up in the lobby once again.

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