Happy Birthday, America!

Drink. Beer.

We're invading small island nations, cutting down the trees to make a big fire, and dancing around clad only in our enemies' pelts. You?

My Dad used to work for the UK government in some secret hush-hush capacity which involved communications and listening-in type stuff, and he had lots of Americans in his department who would come over here on two year postings. They would always invite us Brits to join in with their 4th July picnics/barbecues, and what fun they were! I can honestly say that as a teenager, they were the highlight of my summer.

There's a large American stores/supply place on the airforce base at Upper Heyford, and all the American wives would rush off there excitedly to stock up on proper American food and drink for the party - it was like a different world to the 14-year-old me. At one picnic my brother and I discovered an ice-box full of that stuff that made Milwaukee famous, and we ended up doing cartwheels through the middle of the softball game that was going on, and then we were sick. Oh how my mother laughed.

I remember one Fourth, me and Steve McQueen made some moonshine out of potatoes and served them at the prison camp. As a kind of opening act, we marched around with a flag in a fife-and-drum corps. Who knew Steve was such a master of the fife! Our fellow prisonsers, including lots of British folks, sure loved that hooch. But then, while we were hammered, the Jerries found the secret tunnel that was to get us out. We weren't real popular the rest of the summer.

I knew all along that Steve was a master of the fife.

Tsk, should have driven pointlessly up and down a great big fence for a bit. Saves time all round.

Watch fireworks. Maybe go to an afternoon BBQ at a friend's place. Hopefully watch the milk carton derby on Saturday at Green Lake.