No Troels under the New Hampshire bridge

Two weeks ago, I congratulated nyself on having avoided American germs and staying healthy...now I'm truly stuffed up and sounding like I've been smoking 40 a day for the last 10 years. At least sounding awful means people give me sympathy!

Last weekend I decided to pop down to Portsmouth, New Hampshire which is a little town just over the bridge which marks the border between NH and Maine. It was a gorgeous sunny day, perfect for a stroll. I walked down by the water along a heritage trail which described how Portsmouth was first settled in 1623. That's a lot of history for this part of the world! Being a port, it played a role in the slave trade, although slavery was outlawed here in the 1800s, and has since been a key naval town.  

Then it was out for an evening with Emily at the Great lost bear, a quirky place that specialises in ridiculously HUMUNGOUS portions of food (I had left overs for 2 days...although there wasn't any icecream left) and a vast selection of Maine beers. Shipyard's applehead was very nice. And I didn't get asked for ID. Looking forward to a night in with Troels and Sarah Lund, I popped into the supermarket on the way home on Friday evening and attempted to pick up some beers but was told foreign ID "is no longer accepted...do you have your passport or visa?" Surprisingly, I didn't. Thank goodness for being able to raid Sarah's fridge!

Sadly though I have come to the end of 'the killing'. It kept me well and truly hooked, although creeped me out on several occasions. The image of the killer, when finally revealed, in his waterproof poncho and wellies was really spooky and not the best thing to watch just before bed. I always believed in Troels though...

On a final note, today is the exact half way mark of the exchange. 6 months since leaving Heathrow for the first time and 6 months until I return. Time to get my a into g and get going with more adventures, paying attention to the glorious New Hampshire motto: