Dear Wales,

My goodness, Wales, you certainly are pretty.



I think, just between you and me, you are even prettier than Ireland. You have flowers, after all!



But don't tell them; they'll only be insulted.

I also like your beaches rather a lot better:



But your ocean water is sort of obscenely cold. Well, sorry. But it is. You froze my feet!

However, I forgave you, when I saw one of your excellent castles.


I am so pleased I took a tour of your southern bits! (Not in the dirty way.)

I have enjoyed my time here so much, Wales. Your language is kind of impossible to pronounce, but it's also kind of crazy-cool to see written out, and part of me wants to learn it so I can swear in it and have people look at me funny.

Alas, I did not see your stars and I did not get any autographs, but that is how it sometimes goes, and I did have a pretty excellent time at your best pub last night. You do know how to party, which pleases me.

I wish you well, Wales, and I am sorry to be leaving. You're good people, you are. You should keep on being Welsh; you have my approval. I promise to see you again someday!