What's the Secret Password?

Yesterday I saw the Galleries of Justice. When you go in, they assign you a prisoner number, and you have to look through the exhibit for your sentencing and then they carry it out on you. I was a farmer's daughter in the 17th century, 'ruined' by a traveler, who then ran away to become a highway robber. Sounds just like me, right? The punishment? Lots of laundry duty and then hanging. Yuck. The castle was pretty good too. The Robin Hood statue is outside of the castle. However, the most interesting and weirdest thing I have seen are these eye signs they have all around the city. Some times they are big, sometimes small, some in tile, some in metal, some in stone, some in chalk, some on the sidewalk, some on buildings. No one seems to know what they mean- or they won't tell me. Is there a secret society here in Nott'm? The owner of my B & B is a really funny guy who didn't mind telling me that, 'Your president seems rather stupid, huh? That's embarrassing. Bill Clinton seems like an excellent chap; shame he couldn't keep his pecker in his pants. We also like Hillary. She could have been the American Margaret Thatcher, in a good way.' Then he went on about how he hates that you can't have just one remote control for everything in the house (amen!) and about Wal-Mart. When I told him about Sam's Club, he seemed to go green with envy. Today I am off to Sherwood Forest and the real hiding grounds of Robin Hood. I put ribbons in my hair so they would know I was Maid Marion- or perhaps (for those of you who, like me, watch the new Robin Hood series on BBC America) the Night Watchman. Hey, that sounds a lot like highway robber. Maybe those guys at the Galleries of Justice knew what they were talking about!