It was sweet of Duke to pay for my trip. Wonder why he did it? Probably feels sorry for me.

The gate is weirdly complicated. There are lots of slide locks and padlocks all over it. Right, let's go for the easiest option: jump over it. Why does it remind of 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt'? I try to be as graceful as possible over it (don't know who I was trying to impress) but end up in the mud on the other side with laddered tights. Well this is going to look good; I'm really rocking the mud monster look.

Well, I'm already covered in mud, might as well get even muddier. I wade across the huge field, my boots turning from black to, well, brown. However, it becomes grassier and hillier. This must be where they keep the dragons I was on about to that nurse. Oh my Lord, this is enthralling. I'm actually standing on a dragon's back. Hey, you can even see the little white puffs of smoke on the hills. Wait, why have they got legs? Oh well. Maybe they're mutated. "Hey lady! Get out of there. You're sinking!" someone calls. What do they mean I'm - Oh my Lord I'm flipping sinking. I better not become some dragon's dinner.

"Help! Help!" I call. A muscular man runs down the hill and starts to pull me out. Wow... I might have to get saved again later, well if he's on call.

"Thanks, sorry I'm so clumsy", I say.

"Don't worry. Though it's not everyday I have to save someone from sinking in the farmer's field. You're new round here aren't you?" he replies

"Yeah. How did you know?" I ask, though I already think I know the answer. I'm the crazy girl who got stuck in quickmud.

"The accent. You've got an American twang, but you're speaking the British way of saying things, so I'm guessing slightly English", he replies wisely. How'd he guess that from a few sentences?

"Yeah, I'm from New York, but my grandmother was from England. Got a bit of my dialect from her". Oh, I didn't mention this to you did I? Well, my grandmother May was originally from Yorkshire, but moved to New York to follow her dreams and met Grandpappy Arnold. I really look up to her because she left her family behind to go to to a foreign place. Which I suppose I'm doing myself now. Anyway, back to reality.

"You're a bit muddy. Do you want to come back to my village and we'll clean you up?" he suggests and jogs off to a village just up the hill. I follow him and as soon as I step on the cobble path, it feels like I've stepped into the past. Little thatched cottages line the sides of the street and a large stone church stands at the helm of it all casting a protruding shadow over everything else. Outside the houses are small girls with iron bowls and wooden scrubbing boards in front of them and are rubbing at red and brown clothes. They're all wearing red skirts, laced aprons and black bonnets. I wander past them and feel rather alien in my leather boots and distressed jeans. It's almost like this village hasn't quite caught up with the rest of Wales, like a distance island. Behind the cottages I see women hanging up laundry on a line and hurrying back and forth from their daughters making sure they're washing correctly. They're wearing the same thing as their offspring, but have frilly blouses on and tweed caps.

The man hurries ahead of me greeting the children scrubbing and smiling. I still haven't asked his name. Better do that.

"So, what's your name?" I say, taking his attention away from the youngsters.

"Oh, it's Gruffydd", he answers. Grufydd? Though it makes sense, with him being from a place called "Glyntafon". Wonder if everyone has a Welsh name here.

A fancily-dressed man walks out the church and shakes Gruffydd's hand. I'm guessing he's the priest, or whatever they have over here. They start having a conversation, but I can't hear it, so either they're talking really quietly or I'm going deaf because I've eavesdropped on my parents all the time. Maybe they were just loud...