Much as my blog focuses on photography, a crucial part of Traveling with Krushworth is the stories that come with traveling. I could not make this post up, even if I tried. Yes, my friends and fellow bloggers, I met a wizard in Wales.

Stepping into a quaint pub called the George and Dragon Pub in Conwy, North Wales (under the shadow of Conwy Castle), little did I know that I would be stepping into one of the strangest nights of my life.

I was sitting at the booth eating by myself, a sad truth of traveling solo, when two Welshmen came up to me and started talking to me. They said they wouldn’t allow me to drink alone and invited me up to the bar.



With some trepidation, I made my way to the bar with my large backpack and camera gear. It was then that I noticed that one of the men already at the bar only had one leg and one eye. In his other eye socket, he had a glass eye.

The conversation began light heartedly with one man talking about how Wales should become better allies with England or they might as well get up and join the United States.

There was almost a fist fight. Then when things simmered down, I made the mistake of telling this drunken man beside me I was excited about going to Scotland because I enjoyed Braveheart with Mel Gibson.

He told me that William Wallace was a ‘c’ word loudly and his friend with the one eye and one leg calmed him down. I quickly learned that my new found friend with the hatred for Wallace was none only than Bruce Jones, the former star of Coronation Street.

When conversation became “normal”, we talked about Star Trek, the importance of its technological wizardry to society, the Mayans and how they spoke with aliens.

We finished with the ancient druids and how a magic line crossed at, you guessed it, the George and Dragon Pub. All very quality topics, I asure you.

The one-eyed, one-legged man then imparted to me that he was actually a wizard of olden days. He showed me his spell book that he grinded up to make a huge bag of marijuana.

This man was almost 80 years old and was probably Merlin. I never asked for his name.

With three men, two ladies, a wizard and a particularly inebriated traveler from Canada, the wizard wanted to show me his magical house.

Yes, I was unsure and creeped out but after trying to get out of this strange series of events, his friends assured me that his house was not magical and very safe.

Our cab went literally around the corner where it stopped. The wizard, let’s call him Gandalf in our little fellowship of inebriation, could not walk so the cab ride was free.

We ended up at a beautiful old house with one of the most incredible views I have ever seen. Looking out over the valley, I saw sheep pastures and ancient walls snaking through the hillsides.

When they broke out the man’s grinded up spell book, I told him I had to wake up early the next day and left the impromptu backyard party.

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