Pins and things

On Sunday I took the kids and Mum and Dad on a trip to Lancaster County to visit the Amish Village. The last time we went (with Jared, Sib & co) we had an amazing tour guide. She was about 70, had peroxide hair, and Robert Smith would have been impressed by her eyeliner. She managed to appear to love the Amish people while making them sound like the most scary misogynist, control freaks I've ever nearly met.

This time we had a more muted visit. We didn't hear so much about the controlling local Bishops, or the lack of education past the age of 13, or the terrifying approach to divorce, or their control over everything you wear, even to your shoes. But they did still talk about the pins. Safety pins are a new-fangled thing (apparently). So Amish women (who can't wear buttons because -depending on which of the 2 tours we've been on - they are either embellishments or reminders of the troops who persecuted them in Europe) have to keep their clothes attached with long pins. Must be fab when bending over to pick up washing or kids.

So we were quickly through the house and onto the petting animals, the shop selling hats and tee-shirts saying I love Intercourse (place your orders here!) and faceless dolls in Amish clothes (very scary). A big highlight was the Amish schoolroom. Here is Maddie, settling in to the seat of power.