It’s been 11 months since we returned to the UK. You can call me a math/maths genius if you like, but I figure that’s nearly a whole year. And repatriation is complete (apart from calling a ‘take-away’ a ‘take-out’ today, but these things will crop up every now and then….. 😉 ).
It’s been a while since my last post, and stuff sure has happened, like British politics went into meltdown, I went back to America-land for a week, Andy Murray won the tennis, I got annoyed about the small UK parking spaces, we encountered half term M5 traffic to Cornwall, the England football team confirmed they were shite, we watched outdoor Shakespeare covered in blankets, and it rained quite a bit.
So, yes, I took a trip back to America-land. I wanted to do it before that looney-toon Trump got his hands on it and I had to give a stool/hair/saliva sample before I entered the country to prove I was not a terrorist or related to one or about to give birth to one or whatever.
Anyway, the whole week was hot, fun and American. That’s how I’ll remember a lot of my experience in the USofA. The travel, the people, the endless cultural experiences, turning right on red, and tipping extortionately 😉 . America captured my heart and there is so much of it yet unseen; so many roadtrips and experiences for us still to have in the States – I’m not done with you get, Uncle Sam! Mark my words!
Baltimore – a city I am incredibly fond of
Back at the pool of dreams
And back in the UK, life moves on with pace and Britishness. I remember thinking when I left America I wouldn’t be able to capture the essence of all that I had done and achieved out there. But, I was wrong. America taught me many things, and one of those was to not be afraid, to chase that dream, to make it happen, to open your eyes and your heart to new experiences, and to bloody well get on with it. Nuff said.
And are there things that still baffle me about being back in England?
Of course. Things like this…..
The M5. Why does everyone go on it at the same time? Annoying.
Pasties. Cornwall or Devon?
Sunday closing for shops. 4pm. Is that still church rules?
England football team. Why?
British politics. WTF?
Trains to London from the West Country take forever. Rubbish.
And there are things I love about the UK like this…..
The NHS
British schooling
Eavesdropping in Waitrose
Wimbledon (the only reason I will ever sit inside on a sunny day)
British humour
Tea. Tea. Tea
And there are things I miss from the USA like this……
Old Bay Seasoning
Thanksgiving dinner/piss up
Eating out with your kids in the evening and not being frowned at
The pools
The big roads
Turning right on red
The heat
People commenting on how much they love my accent
My Americana buddies!
But, the repatriation is complete. When there is no more culture shock, no more truly comparing and contrasting the cultural differences, then you know you’re back in it. And really that’s all this UK Desperate Housewife from the USA to the UK has to say about that!
It’s been a joy to share my journey there and back again. Thanks for reading.
When I first read John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men it was about 1989 and I was aware only of an America that was relentlessly feeding me the likes of Dynasty, the A Team and Baywatch. This novel was an eye- and mind-opening antidote to all that nonsensical wotnot.
This was the real America that I held in my hands, and this book, along with To Kill a Mockingbird, truly opened my eyes not only to a culture and history that fascinated me, but they both also allowed me to have an opinion about stuff. I was given free rein to discuss racism, women’s roles in society, and the nature of humankind. Wow, this was all the stuff that I wasn’t allowed to discuss at meal times at home and I flippin’ well loved it. My brain was in overdrive with this book, as I lapped up the American scenery of North California, the American colloquialisms, and the pursuit of the American dream.
So, when this show appeared at the Everyman in Cheltenham I just had to go and see it, to find out if the novel I loved could be translated into a stage play and still have the same impact on me. This adaptation of Of Mice and Men did not disappoint.
George and Lenny
Having returned from my own modern-day pursuit of the American dream, I was keen to hear American accents again, and I wanted to feel for a few hours like I was back in the USA, albeit in a 1930s California in the midst of the depression. Gosh I miss America, and to hear the opening bluegrass music elevated my soul, placing me right where I wanted to be. A simple, but evocative set, it was the backdrop for a 2 hour journey of emotions.
The moment those two guys come on stage, you’re pulled in by George and Lenny. I think we all know must have come across or known a Lenny at some point in our lives. I bet every single person in that audience was recollecting how they treated their own Lenny…
And that’s the beauty of The Touring Consortium Theatre Company and Birmingham Repertory Theatre’s stage play, directed by Roxana Silbert. It’s simple, uncomplicated acting presenting the words and narrative that John Steinbeck created, pushing you gently at first to engage and make assumptions, and then to have those assumptions pulled away from under you. It makes you think and we all need to do that at some point.
I tried not to assess the play as a GCSE student, but since half the audience were teenage kids who were obviously all studying the book, I began to wonder how they were interpreting the themes. I remember from those hazy GCSE days that the theme of loneliness was key, as well as vulnerability. I began to remember my thoughts from then….how does George treat Lenny, really? The commentary on these intertwined roles is complex throughout the performance, with moments of compassion and frustration, bullying and responsibility from George and such fascinating innocence from Lenny. The actors handled the relationship superbly.
I wish I had not known the ending [SPOILER ALERT]. I was more acutely aware of lines such as ‘you broke it by petting it’ and ‘I just want to feel her dress’. The foreshadowing in Steinbeck’s words were lingering in the audience by those who knew what was to occur, but we all were captivated, perhaps holding out hope that the ending had changed. FYI, it hadn’t.
I totally bought into George and Lenny’s dream. The more they said it, the more I believed it could be true. It’s like the stuff all the success coaches will tell you – if you visualise it, it will happen. Except, it also might not….
One of the lines that resonated with me was George’s ‘You feel free when you ain’t got a job and you ain’t hungry’. I thought about this for a long time after. How is that possible? It must be possible for someone. Then I realised my focus was also on how much I love an American double negative. Only cowboys and Elvis can really get away with them, and they absolutely work in this play because of the true-to-form American dialect, so don’t nobody say otherwise….. [see what I did there?!] It’s still uncomfortable to hear the N word, though. That will never sit right.
I love an orchestrated and choreographed set change by the cast to music and I nearly had to applaud how expertly this was done. It was a joy to see Dudley Sutton (yes, Tinker from Lovejoy!) cast as old Candy. He’s almost as old as his dog, wonderfully played by the grey-muzzled Bentley, a local dog who had to audition for the role. We melted as he sniffed out the snacks in the audience and cried our hearts out when he left.
Now, let’s talk American accents, and I have no legs to stand on here, because my American friends all said that my accent tended to travel from the Deep South, all the way up to Boston, and settle drunkenly in Philly. I was not consistent, unlike these cast members. Lenny’s (Kristian Phillips) was spot on and George’s (William Rodell) didn’t falter (once he’d got his tongue round those tricky vowel pronunciations), but Curly appeared to have spent some time in the Bronx. He was bringing on the gangster somewhat, but it kind of worked for the role of the absolute terror that Curly is. Candy might also have lost his accent slightly somewhere in the Atlantic, but who cares –it’s flippin’ Tinker!
Dudley Sutton as Tinker
And back for a moment to my audience. There’s nothing more amusing than seeing a bunch of British teenage boys blush and flick their hair and snigger in embarrassment at the line about Curly’s hand staying soft in his glove of Vaseline for his wife’s sake. Gotta love that line, unless you’re a 15 year old boy at the theatre with your teacher….
George and Lenny is like a bromance of sorts. God love those boys! You know it’s all going to go haywire when it is declared the ranch they get to ‘ain’t no good place’. But, selfishly hooray for me, there are cowboys! And I am a sucker for a cowboy. Slim got my vote as the hot one on the ranch – he can buck his barley in my direction anytime. 😉
But here I am using my coarse English humour to avoid the matter at hand. And that matter is those boys, and especially that big guy and ‘nice fella’ Lenny who just wants to live off the fat off the land and tend to his rabbits. Gawd, the dream speech got me with its beautiful simplicity. It’s the American optimism that I love to hear, just woefully and tragically misplaced, and sensitively performed, in this play.
The issue of women is a tough one in Of Mice and Men. Initially, we view Curly’s wife as a bad person and a tart – in fact, we are told as much. But the truth is much deeper than that. Like Lenny, like George, like Crooks, she is lonely – in fact the loneliest of all, potentially. They are all rejects in their own way, and this is illustrated and performed in a spiritual way by each character. I struggle with the role of women in what I call the ‘olden days’. What kind of life did women have back then? It angers me, and saddens me, but Saoirse-Monica Jackson brought some much-needed depth to the unnamed character of Curly’s wife. So significant that she has no name, and yet she has such a big, American, Hollywood dream that lies unfulfilled.
Curly’s wife
And then Crooks, showcasing the racism of the time through his being ostracised from the men’s quarters. But he’s reading. Note that he’s reading – a subtle nod to how smart Crooks (Dave Fishley) is. A fella who’s pushed out of the society he lives in, but who has got his wits about him, I adored this performance, and his accent was like honey on pancakes. It’s he who is effectively at the bottom on the heap in this play, but he’s learned to manage his status. Society ranks those that it casts out – Crooks, Curly’s wife, Lenny, George are all in this jumbled pyramid of outcasts.
My view is that every child and every adult in every land should read this book and see this magnificent stage play. It should be law. Read it, see it, think about it. What would you do? How could you apply the positive leaning from it in every facet of your life and grow a better, more tolerant, appreciative, understanding society? How and why do we judge so and from where is hatred born?
Of Mice and Men show is powerful, and tear jerking, and all credit to the cast for evoking such emotion. Those were real tears on stage and in the audience. Yes, be warned, there will not be a dry eye in the house.
The show runs in Cheltenham at the Everyman Theatre till 27 February and is then on tour across the UK. Spread the word #miceandmentour @TCTcompany @theatrecloud
Turn off the TV and go and see this show, wherever you are.
This is my third installment in Cheltenham. It was the year of 2000 when we first landed in Cheltenham for my [then-boyfriend-now-husband’s] work. Sixteen years on, I am slowly beginning to understand this town, and, happily, to enjoy it. Woohoo!
We were young and slightly confused in 2000 – that is, confused about what we were supposed to do here, and who we were. We found ourselves at that awkward stage between being university students still and playing being grown up, and not actually knowing what ‘being grown ups’ meant. Oddly, I think we both thought it predominantly meant we should enjoy DIY. Truth is we didn’t, and we were also utterly crap at it!
Cheltenham town – it is kinda pretty ain’t it though?!
Anyway, the point is that we arrived in Cheltenham not very sure about who we were, nor what this provincial town had to offer. Coming from a diverse area of London, I was pretty blown away by the causal racism that was openly offered to me on my first night out. ‘Oh you’re from London. Lots of black people there. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I’m racist. It’s just we really don’t want them living here….’
This was 2000. Cheltenham was, I think, pretty pants then. I never really understood the place, and we never really connected. The town didn’t really know if it was a high street, a place to eat, a cultural venue, or a racing town. In turn, I had no idea what I was doing with my life. I immersed myself in the local theatre scene, made some friends through work, and plotted my escape. We returned to London in 2004.
In 2007 we came back to the Cotswolds, avec baby. This time around, Cheltenham offered me new things and I was more in tune with my headspace. Things were-a-changing in Cheltenham, and I was glad to be along for the ride. It was cool, we had a good time, met some great people, and I played netball. We had grown up, and so had Cheltenham.
Then, boom! Off to the USA we decided to go. I get itchy feet and I needed to walk on some different grass for a while, and so three years in the States happened, and we relished every moment. How on earth would I cope coming back to suburban England? And, more specifically, back to Cheltenham….? I felt very, very apprehensive about coming back to the same place for the third time…..
Did I mention I loved living in the USA?!! 😉
But here now, in 2016, I think Cheltenham and I are in a good place together. We’ve matured, neither particularly gracefully, but we’ve found ourselves, and this time we’re connecting. I’m lucky to have work that allows me to socialise with diverse groups of people. I’m finding things out that I never knew existed and am part of networks that are welcoming and supportive. Cheltenham has grown culturally, and is, thankfully, much more diverse in its outlook. It’s definitely more exciting, more developed, more socially aware, and more socially responsible. And I’m beginning to enjoy rocking it in Cheltenham.
Rocking it in the Cotswolds this week are…..
Juicing in Cheltenham
One of my favourite things about the States were the juice bars. Oh yes, they were a ‘thing’ and were aplenty! However, I wondered if I would find somewhere to replicate my love of juicing, which, as you might know, is ultra-trendy for detoxing purposes.
Thankfully, smashing chap Dan Fivey owns a juice bar Not Just Juice in the lower high street in Cheltenham (more on that area of town in my next installment!) where you can order 1, 2 or 3 days of juicing online. I opted for two days of juices with the intention of flushing out the new year excesses.
Dan’s juices are designed to supercharge your body. You drink four juices a day and you can choose from, amongst others, Chunky Monkey: peanut butter and banana; Do the Splits: banana and strawberry; and Very Berry: blueberry, raspberry, strawberry. Delicious and delightful, and very detoxifying.
Juices!
I, for one, am very glad there’s access to juicing here in Cheltenham. That’s progression, folks!
The Cotswolds Countryside
Ah, the English countryside in the Cheltenham/Cotswolds area! How do we love thee…?! Er, like loads!
These pics say it all!
Devil’s Chimney, Cheltenham
British boy in the British countryside
Closeness to Oxford
Oxford: possibly my most favourite town in the whole of the UK and only 50 mins from Cheltenham (note to hubby – yes, I’d like to live in Oxford one day!).
Oxford delights
There is something about being in a university town that I just adore. Plus, in Oxford, when you sit in the University chapel café it’s very much like being on the set of University Challenge. I imagine. Another bonus is that it’s half way for me to meet my London chums!
British things are all around me! I’m in the land of Englishness! And what kind of things have been totally British recently?
Well, loads of Americana chums have asked for pictures of old English-y stuff. You got it peeps!
Tewkesbury Abbey. It’s like super old.
An ice cream van selling Mr Whippy. In January. 🙂
A ha-ha wall. Cos when you fall off it and everyone goes ‘ha-ha’ 😉
An old pub. This doesn’t have TVs in the bar. Imagine that! 😉
Sticky toffee pudding – or stoffee ticky pudding as we call it 🙂
You are welcome, my friends!
I particularly hope this amuses my American and my British friends who are still snowed in in Maryland because of the snowstorm Jonas. Now that was a snow dump! We got the tail end of it today in the Cotswolds, apparently. But when it came to us, it was just rain. Lots of rain, naturally!
Whilst the genius that was David Bowie was referencing America in a different context in his iconic song, I can’t get this lyric out of my head. It’s a blend of his Britishness, his love of NYC, and his many references to America in his songs that have caught my imagination and perhaps inspired this essay. (You might need a cuppa for this one – it’s long, and slightly contentious!!)
Yep, this is UK that I am living in again and this is definitely not America.
And, during my time back in the UK I’ve noticed and listened to many British comments that make direct reference to the fact that they’re very happy that this country is not America. Whilst I’ve always acknowledged many of America’s failings that I experienced or was aware of, and alluded to some of its more odd, amusing or problematic characteristics through my blogDesperate English Housewife in Washingtonduring my three years there, I am still stunned when I hear Brits let rip at the USA and Americans.
Over the past five months I’ve heard many Brits comment with real negativity about the country and its people. Yes, there is a slightly racist brush which we Brits feel it’s okay to sweep across America.
Oh, I get how the brashness and the commercialism and the bright lights and the fear of those middle States taking over the politics might be a cause for concern, or how ripe certain topics are for scrutiny and that these naturally and legitimately can bear the brunt of our very British wit and sarcasm, but there is also often a real condescending, superior tone from many Brits which I’ve witnessed, especially when I say I used to live in the USA.
You know, that tone. The one that’s saved for looking down on someone who you think has got it wrong, someone who isn’t very classy, someone who doesn’t live up to your standards, someone who you think is dumb, or inferior. You know, that bullying tone.
And whilst it is very clear that, when America sticks its head above the parapet and does make great big dickhead mistakes, or is unjustly arrogant, or there are issues that we feel need to be resolved faster and with more balls – the gun issue, gay rights, race issues, or abortion (for instance) – the country does lend itself to general piss taking or mocking, or is a cause for concern in our modern society.
But, otherwise, what I hear is just bullying.
Yes, yes, I know the USA has positioned itself as a super power and is one of the wealthiest countries in the world and should take it all on the chin, but behind that facade, there are deep-rooted issues and vulnerability. But we Brits like to bring people down. It’s part of us, we say – that’s how we roll. Or is just tiresome and slightly xenophobic? Think about the most successful person on TV, or in your life, that you know – as a Brit, don’t you just love to bring them down? We don’t big them up, we don’t often say ‘you’re amazing, carry on being amazing!’. No, we don’t do that – or, at least, not enough. I bet many a Brit would be loathe to admit that they secretly don’t want that successful person to succeed. We naturally support the underdog – that’s the way we’re inclined. And America is not, nor would it want to be, the underdog.
Are we slightly jealous that once upon a time there was us, the British Empire, and then, well, there wasn’t….? Maybe that’s just history. But our relationship with America is complicated. We’re kind of cool to have you on our side and all that, but we laugh at your commercialism, and your CocaCola, and your obesity problem (Britain – we have one too, you know!), and your guns, and your ‘uneducated’ states in the middle that we don’t really know the names of but mock anyway. Yes, the sweeping stereotypes we like to place on America.
We Brits, with our heritage and culture and etiquette and constant nod to the age of ‘better days gone by’, do we see America as that ‘new money’ place? Is that how this one goes? Silly, immature America that got the money and built the big house, but which will never quite shape up to the expectation of our esteemed order, because it doesn’t ‘have history’ (I beg to differ), and it doesn’t, quite simply, have class (again, I beg to differ).
Don’t get me wrong, I love Britain and am very proud to be British. I love British culture, theatre, our sense of humour, popular music, art, London, the general cultural vibe – that’s my favourite thing about Britain. And I love America. I love its different cultures in one country, its embracing of arts, its genuine desire to better itself, its sense of politics, its new-worldness. And I love the two countries’ differences and their similarities, and I recognise both of their flaws. What I don’t love sometimes – and it really does grate – is the attitude that some Brits have to the USA and Americans, because it does reveal an exaggerated sense of one’s own importance.
There is a perception that all Americans are ill-informed about anything outside their own country, and pretty ignorant of where other countries are, and any facts about them. Of course this is going to be true in some areas – I liked to share facts about Europe and the UK in general with these peeps who didn’t have a vast knowledge. But, in truth, my knowledge about the USA was pretty minimal when I went there. I mean, it was mostly based on West Side Story, Fame!, The Wire,Dallas and Deperate Housewives, for goodness sake.
America is a big old country, and it still makes me smile when I hear the NATIONAL travel news on Radio 2 in the morning here in the UK, whilst in the States my Baltimore radio station would only do the traffic report for a certain length of the I95 (which goes from NYC to Florida) based in their immediate area. That’s just how it works. It’s a big place!
The American people that I met and hung out with on the East Coast were warm, friendly, very very smart, progressive, classy, educated, open-minded and intuitive. They created a fantastically spiritual, welcoming, intelligent environment for me to live in and I thrived on that.
Some of the comments that I’ve heard recently left my jaw hanging slightly. Yes, the crass open-gobness of a Brit who’s obviously been injected with some American non-culture. That’s me!
Many of the comments I’ve heard have been based upon media perceptions and ignorance, and possibly a mix of fear and snobbery.
‘Oh I don’t think I could cope with living in America.’
‘Have you ever been there?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t want to.’
‘Why’s that? I had a great time.’
‘I think it would be….too “American” for me….’
Who said ‘people fear what they don’t understand’?
They were right.
Some Brits actually appear quite horrified that I enjoyed living in America so much. In fact, they seem slightly disappointed and mortified that a fellow Brit feels this way, and no doubt come to the conclusion that I must have been taken there without consent and consequently brainwashed by some American cult. 😉
One fundamental difference about being there in the States and being back in the UK is realising just how much Americans love us Brits. They do. They flippin’ love us (most of them, anyway!). My American friends were always wanting to know more about Britain. Americans I met found us intriguing, they were always asking questions about us and about our culture (and not just Downton Abbey and One Direction and the Royal family!). The Americans I got to know welcomed me, brought me into their community, they were warm and friendly, and they made me feel I belonged. And, honestly, they made me feel special. Do we do this to Americans, British people – do we? Do we see or hear an American in our community and make them feel special? If not, we should.
David Bowie was right: this is not America. Right on. And you also know what, America is not Britain. And that’s why I was so very glad to live in America for a while. But now I really am glad to be back – and in part due to the fact that the positivity I enjoyed over there in the States is actually happening right here, right now, in my little bit of the world in Cheltenham, The Cotswolds. You see, much of the work ethic and philosophy that I’m experiencing in the business community in Gloucestershire, of which I am now part, is based on many very American sentiments. It’s all about making the change happen, living and fulfilling your dream, overcoming the hurdles, bigging up people and supporting their success, not drowning yourself and others in criticism, and networking and embracing new people and new ideas.
So, I’m glad to be back in the UK at what is a very positive, driven time – and it appears there has been an injection of American culture that’s making its mark in the UK, and, whether folks like it or not, I get the impression it is here to stay for a while!
Finally – don’t we tell ourselves, like we tell our kids, to accept everyone; that one way is not right and the other way is not wrong, but that they are just different…….? I like the sentiment about taking a moment to appreciate each other and our differences. We should do it more.
Gordon Bennett, I’ve had enough of Britain’s attempt at Black Friday nonsense already and the date isn’t even here yet.
Why have we even got Black Friday here anyway? Asda brought it to the UK a few years ago (aren’t they the UK sister of Wal-Mart in the States?) and everyone went nuts for cheap TVs and DVD players and smacked each other round the chops to get hold of stuff and caused a right old scene? I’m glad Asda’s had the sense to get rid of it this year. Good call!
Nonsense!
Black Friday comes the day after Thanksgiving in the USA. We don’t even celebrate Thanksgiving in the UK, so why the foofing heck have we got Black Friday?
“What’s this all about anyway?” asked a British friend of mine.
“Well,” replied I, avec my British tongue firmly in cheek, “Americans get together on the Thursday and say how thankful and grateful for all that they have, and then the next day they go out and buy loads of crap they don’t need.” 🙂
Halloween and Bonfire Night
I don’t care what some of my British friends say, Halloween ain’t NUFFINK like it is in the States. Not a patch on it. As Harry declared sadly, ‘It’s not like in America.’
Case in point:
America
Britain
I am sad to report that we did not do Bonfire Night/Guy Fawkes night this year, despite it being Harry’s first memorable one. I blame the rain. There was loads of it.
However, Harry’s learned all about it: ‘Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the Houses of Parly-ament and now we burn him to death every year.’
🙂
Waitrose coffee – a revelation!
Waitrose is, dear American friends, the most middle class of all our British supermarkets. When I returned to this very country I was told with much glee by my Brit chums that Waitrose give away ‘free coffee’! To needy middle class people!
Amazing.
Still, I thought it would be rude not to partake. But I did the American thing and walked around the shop with mine, to many disapproving British middle class looks. ‘You should have got a tea and sat down with it, That’s the thing to do’ said my chums. Nah. I wanted to create an interesting juxtaposition of cultural wotnot. It worked.
Walking round the store wiv me coffee. God forbid!!
Young Harry is totally infatuated with Britain. He think the countryside is amazing, he loves school and the education, and talking in a British accent 😉
On a recent trip to one of our old favourite walks nearby in Cheltenham he marvelled at the panorama. ‘That.’ he declared, ‘is a better view than the Grand Canyon.’ I had a sharp intake of breath. Oh my, you mean we went all that way on a frigging coach for 5 hours from Vegas and back again and all he wanted was a view of some sheep, some causal splatterings of cow poo and expansive green fields? Yes, if the truth be told.
Agreed, the view across the Cotswolds was really quite stunning that afternoon.
(Not my photo!)
When I tell people of Gloucestershire this they are delighted to hear it.
School and class
One of the very English (not British, definitely English) things that has been ringing in my ears recently is the school thing. School placement is v different to the States. Basically, you don’t automatically get the school that’s nearest you and sometimes that means you miss out on the school you really, really want for your kid (because you don’t want them to associate with kids who are from a different class, the school reputation isn’t all that or whatever). Every year parents of 4 year olds weep tears via Facebook about not getting their school of choice here in Cheltenham, and to be honest it all gets a bit bleeding heart middle class first world problemy (read as: very annoying).
Harry got placed in a cool school that is considered to be on the ‘wrong side of the tracks’. It was a school that was failing and so they got some superheads in and now it’s awesomeballs now and his teacher is rocking. We didn’t get a choice, but we were pleased he was now getting an education in a British school and we just feel lucky he’s there.
But the class system is rife in Cheltenham, as it is in many places in England. Never has England appeared more class conscious than it has when parents are considering or talking about schools. People move three or four years ahead of time across the town to get into a speficic school. It’s a Very British Problem thing that’s crudely fascinating.
Going Contactless
What is is this ‘contactless’ thing that you can do in British shops with one’s credit/debit card? And when did it happen?! You just place it on the screen? Amazing! Not got my head round it yet. Not sure what the minimum or maximum is, but I’m trying it all the time. It’s very exciting not having to put your card in and then your pin, cos I was messing that up every time I did it, since in the USA you just give them your card and they swipe it.
I’ll get the hang of it, and in time people at the checkouts won’t hear an excited squeal of ‘Oooh, you do contactless, what fun!’
Here’s a truth: my three months repatriating back in Britain-land has been tough. I’ve not really connected with my home country and I couldn’t really put my finger on why that was. And then it clicked – I hadn’t really taken my own advice as Desperate English Housewife in Washington and I hadn’t really opened my eyes and mind and appreciated it. More fool me.
For the first couple of months I felt trapped, suffocated and very out of place, like I don’t really belong and also like I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to belong. That’s the repatriation / reverse culture shock way for some, apparently. I didn’t even feel I had much to blog about, because I wasn’t doing anything special or unusual. It just felt mundane, and I couldn’t summon the energy or enthusiasm to write anything.
But that’s no way to live! So I made a conscious decision to get involved in my community in Cheltenham, The Cotswolds, England, and have gone about making some changes to ensure I can inject some life into my life!
Today I am having a Very British Day. I went for a walk in the rain (I had my umbrella in my bag, naturally, as all prepared Brits do) and had a lovely cup of tea out of a teapot whilst reading The Times. Totes British!
So British!
And later today I’m chatting onBBC Radio Gloucestershire about British things like words of the year chosen by the Oxford English Dictionary and the now annual new John Lewis advert (yes, I cried!).
So, with all this in mind, I have written this breaking up/love letter to America…
Dear, darling America-land
America, I love you very, very much. It’s a love I didn’t know was possible. But I’ve decided that, since it’s been three months that we’ve been separated, and whilst you will have a large, warm, slightly drunken place in my heart forever, and I can’t stop thinking about my amazing life and travels in Columbia, Maryland, Nashville, Memphis, California, NYC, Galtinburg, the Smokies, Savannah, Charleston and New Orleans, I have to focus on rekindling my love for your cousin over the pond, Britain.
Britain keeps trying to pull me in and whilst I have resisted thus far, I cannot get on with my life if I keep hankering back to my Americana days of fun and frivolity. I need to make things happen here and I intend to use all that I learned whilst I was with you about life, spirit and joy. You gave me that and I shall be forever grateful.
So, let’s keep in touch (like EVERY DAY!) and I will be visiting really/real soon. We can make sure that special thing we had happens again when we’re together. It’s a thing like no other. And look after everyone I love there, and make sure they still call me in an inebriated fashion at 4am my time because it does make me smile.
You captured my heart and my mind, but I have to move on.
America, it’s not you, it’s me.
Yours with love forever,
Claire
PS. Don’t even think about electing that Trump guy! Honestly, I would be very disappointed with you! 😉
So, this week it’s all about British/ American differences in eating habits and at school.
Eating etiquette
First up, the Guardian published an article about the different ways of eating in the UK and the USA. You can read it here…
It basically says ‘Lots of American customs have invaded British culture over the past few decades, but I wouldn’t have bet on this one: apparently, British people have begun to brandish their forks in the American fashion.’
I was brought up using the method of cutting with my knife and keeping the fork in the left hand (as I’m right handed). I never adopted the ‘cut and switch’ method of many Americans, but I did enjoy certain meals, like salads, where I could just eat with my fork in my right hand not have to cut at all. It’s more relaxed. Prior to my American experience I wouldn’t have dreamed of eating like that (yes, the wrath of my Very British father played heavily upon my table manners!).
In the States I became a bit fascinated by how people cut/ate their food. I would watch to see how they held their knives and forks and sometimes try it their way to see if worked for me. It didn’t. I have a dinner party tonight here in the UK and I bet everyone just eats ‘the British way’. Simples.
But let’s not get to the stage where we judge people on how they hold their cutlery, shall we? Rather, let’s enjoy their company and the conversation and the food. After all, many cultures prefer to eat with their hands. Personally, I think it’s just darn wrong to eat a pizza with a knife and fork – pick up that slice and whop the bugger in yer gob before it all flops off! That’s how to eat pizza!
School’s out
In the States we could take Harry out of school whenever we jolly well pleased for our roadtrips and wotnot. And we did. We probably did it a little too much, but when you ‘visilive’ somewhere it’s going to be that way to make the most of it.
In the UK you can get fined lots of dosh for taking your nippers out of school and have to get sign off for attendance at funerals and the like, and they restrict the number of days they can be off. That bit annoys me. Close family member dies: have one day off to attend the funeral only, if you please. If you breach this in anyway you get fined and then the Daily Mail runs a story about you heading off to Malaga for a beach holibobs with your kids in school time (bad) or the Guardian runs a story about you taking the kids out for an educational trip to the Galapagos Islands (good).
What do I think? I think a few days out of school for kids, especially for emotional reasons, or highly educational reasons, isn’t going to damage them. To be honest, Harry learned a lot more in historic Savannah, the Cherokee reservations, and watching elephant seals in California than he would have at school for those days. Fact.
Savannah!
We are now constricted to school holidays for our vacations in the UK and that’s been a hard adjustment, but it’s the law innit, and I don’t really want to end up in the Daily Mail just yet. 😉
Happy pussies
Interestingly my cats are infinitely happier here than they were in the USA. It might be the weather was too hot or too cold there; it might be they just love being in the house they grew up in, but it’s defo true to say my cats are totes British!
She might not look happy, but she is actually v v happy!
Gawd love the interweb
When your hilarious drunk American friends phone you via interweb technology at 630am British time on a Saturday you know they’re missing you. And boy do I miss them. Like oodles. Like so much I never realised that it’s possible to miss people this much. So many memories, so many laughs, so much joy. When people ask if I miss the States, of course I do, but really I miss the people the most.
James Bond fever!
Well it’s all about James Bond here in the UK. How proud we are of him! How British we are when we talk about him! How much my dad looks like Roger Moore! How much do I think of Russ Abbot’s take on it and Miss FunnyFanny from the 1980s?!
Anyhow, here are some delightful Bond facts for you so you can be all smart and smug about Bond at your next dinner party. You’re welcome!
Battle of the Bonds: Kisses, Cocktails, Kills, Cars & Cash – An infographic by the team at GB Show Plates
It’s been two months now since we returned from the USA and the differences between the land I grew up in and the land that I ‘visilived’ in are becoming clearer now. (Visilived is a new verb which I made up just this very moment to describe when you do what we did for three years in another country 😉 )
Halloween
Big difference here. Practically every house in the States is adorned in Halloween garb right now I suspect, or furnished in fall magic. This one house in Ohio blew me away. They said it ‘crossed the line’. They might be right 🙂
However, here in the UK it seems it’s just Tesco that’s got the Halloween vibe.
Grumps
This is a sad difference. I’ve noted a lot of grumpy folk here in the UK recently. There are a lot of happy ones, sure, and I like them a lot, but by Gawd, it appears the colder it gets the UK the more entitled you are to be grumpy. Hang on a minute, that might be me too, cos it is getting colder and I’m not happy about it…..
UK forever?
I’m convinced the UK is not my forever home, since the opportunities to ‘visilive’ in other countries are far too appealing. (See that word does work!)
I got Hvar, Croatia. It says ‘As an island just 68 kilometres across, Hvar is not short of beautiful beaches and the nearby Pakleni Islands also offer a number of naturist hotpots, if that’s your thing. Hvar Town has plenty of character, with its traffic-free streets and surrounding 13th century walls, so if you’d prefer a smaller home town, next to crystal clear waters, then Hvar is for you.’ Interesting – a fine place to write my book me thinks!
Travel to open your eyes
The other thing about travelling is the opportunity to open your eyes to others’ lives. This is a curious and fascinating aspect of travelling to me. Today I read this by traveller and writer Cristina Luisa and it struck a chord with me about the way I want to travel in future and how we conduct our lives…..
‘Thinking that luxuries are necessities….When you’re wrapped up in the perspective of your own world, it’s easy to think that you “need” a better car, a new wardrobe, or a drink at the end of a hard day. After you start to travel—especially throughout developing countries—you begin to see how others live, forcing an immediate re-evaluation of what a necessity is. When you see children digging through garbage to find their next meal, families of 10 sharing a one-room shack, people without access to clean water, electricity or education, you just might feel ashamed that you once thought you needed a $350 haircut with highlights.’
Desperate Housewife: From America to England 