So I got in a little scuffle with an 800 year old national treasure. I thought we had been nice to it. Clive and I had been complimenting the building on how well the age-old concrete had kept the stones together. Maybe it heard us wrong or somthing. Or maybe it just didn't appreciate being mounted. Whatever the cause, the climax was rather tumultuous. I got about 5 feet up the wall when it decided to shed itself of excess stones. Perhaps it didn't intend to shed the stones that my weight was relying on. Humpty Dumpy Dyck went falling like a stick. He landed with a thud, too bad it wasn't mud. The ground below was stone. Oh grumble, oh moan. Now he walks with quite the limp, please don't call me wimp! It's alright, it's not broken. Just a alittle bruised, that old wall's token. I'll be better shortly, until then, not courtly. Farewell blog readers, don't assault charismatic leaders.