Must Have Forgotten My Kilt...

Oh my goodness! I can't quite believe what's happened. Somehow, I managed to wind up in....in Ireland! It's terribly cold here compared to my warm Arabian home. I guess it must of been me thinking of the U2 tour that's going on. Have you heard? Bono gave his sunglasses to a young boy after he brought him up on stage! What a sweet thing to do. :) Anyways, I'll just continue on. Well, it seems my father has found out where I'm hiding. He tracked me down. I don't know how. I just now that I'm hiding in an abandoned old castle with little more than a few days supply of food and water, my thing gypsy clothing, and a sleeping bag that I stole from a Russian shop owner a few years back. I do have my toothbrush though. That's always good. I cannot stand to have a dirty mouth. A pet peeve of mine you might say. A very friendly Irishmen approached me upon my arrival and told me I looked prettier than his wife when she was pregnant...I think he might have been drunk considering he stumbled out of a place called O'Connell's Pub with a large mug in hand, but, I can't be sure. I then tried to ask him for directions to a hotel, but, he then proceeded to laugh hysterically, fall on me, vomit at my feet, and pass out on the cobblestone street. I felt sorry for the poor old drunkard so I dragged him over to a nearby bench and cleaned him up as best I could with some baby wipes I had on hand. Moments later, a younger man who was not drunk came dashing out of the bar, looking around frantically. He whipped his auburn head of hair around and saw me there, wiping this man down with baby wipes. "Oh! Uncle Greg!" He yelled. Relief washed over him. He immediately began hoisting the man over his shoulders. I watched this handsome man, helplessly, clutching some puke ridden wipes. He glanced back at me and then away and then did a double take. I figured it was just my clothing. I do often surprise people with my colorful garb. "Oh, ah, hello...ma'am. Er, your name is?" He seemed nervous. I was in shock; what a wonderful accent. "Oh, Jasmine...Lovett. I'm from...out of town." He laughed nervously. "I can see that." I blushed; he must have thought me crazy. "My name's Sean Peters. I live here. In Walshstown." I took his hand. I almost jumped it was big and warm. "So, Jasmine, where are you staying?" "Oh, well, I.." I didn't get to finish. My insides turned cold. My father. My father? What was he doing here? He looked almost as out of place as I did with his turban and floaty white cotton clothes and sandals. He was shivering, and was talking to a man a few buildings over. It was a small hotel that I had passed on my way in. "I had thought about staying there too..." I whispered. "Excuse me?" Sean politely asked. "Oh, nothing. I, I just need to be going. I have a very busy day tomorrow. Excuse me." "Oh, well, maybe I'll see you around town then. We could get a drink sometime..." He left it in the air as a question. "Yes, yes a drink sounds lovely." He smiled. "Tomorrow then? Around 7?" I felt fuzzy on the inside. "Yes, 7..." I backed further away, turning on my heel. "Where are you staying? So I can pick you up?" He was calling to me now. "I'll. I'll just meet you here. It's impossible to find." He chuckled. "Alright. See you then." "Yes, see you Sean." I scuttled away, careful to check behind every now and again. And that is how I wound up here. In this castle. It had begun to rain and the wind was blowing fast and the water beside me was splashing all around. And I tripped over a rock and fell into something hard. I thought it was just a cottage or inn and it turned out to be a small castle (if a castle can be small). I'm worried father may find me. If he does, I will have to marry that wicked fool.....ugh. I don't even want to think about it. Instead, I'm going to snuggle down and close my eyes and think of good things. Things like Sean Peters....and his auburn hair, and his soothing voice....and the warmth of his hands. Goodnight.