It was the trip of my dreams. One more off my bucket list. It’s gorgeous and green, the land of potatoes and castles. I’d already toured several, but this one was different. Tourists were able to touch the tapestries, sit on chairs, even lie on the beds.
I stood in the kitchen fascinated with the assortment of pots and cauldrons. One large iron pot in particular. What had they cooked in it? As I put my hand on the handle, I was transported back hundreds of years. I smelled trouble and looked in the pot.
The porridge had burned.
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