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.
You might not care one way or the other that my reparation from America to England musings ceased to exist for a few months. The reason behind my lack of musings is kind of a good thing (I’ve been really busy with work) and kind of a bad thing (normality has set in).
A recent returned expat who we spent a lot of time with in the States asked me this week ‘when does the homesickness end?’. And, to be honest, I don’t think it ever does. (Note the use of ‘home’….. interesting.)
The thing is, you can immerse yourself in it all back here, (I am doing just that), and some kind of normal gradually takes over, but every day a wave of memory sweeps over me, and I think ‘Gawd, it was good…..’ It was effing good.
But, what’s been a-diddling in the land of Eng that’s worth noting?
It’s been three months folks since the cold February blog and apparently there’s a heat wave coming (about flippin’ time!), folks.
Right, in no particular order…….
May Bank Holiday was wet. Of course it was. What was I expecting?! It was made slightly more annoying by Facebook’s constant reminders that I was in the Bahamas with my lush chum Georgina this time last year.
We had the races in Cheltenham. Again. I don’t really do the races in Cheltenham. To be fair, this goes against my mantra of not knocking anything until you’ve tried it, but I’ve seen it, and it has a) crowds; b) drunk people in the crowds; and c) drunk people in crowds betting on horses. The only reason I would go is to buy HihoSilver jewellery, cos its lush.
I interviewed Jordan/Katie Price. She’s one of the most famous British Page 3 girls (ie, she has big knockers/tits). She was actually really nice, feisty and a good sport. And her tits were a bit disappointing, to be honest. (She had them reduced, I was later told.)
That’s Katie/Jordan on the left 🙂
This week is Chelteham Jazz Festival when all the good people who adore Radio 2 come and listen to doo-wop and Jamie Cullum. It was pretty coolio. I’d never done the festival before, and I was impressed. Sign me up for next year. (PS If anyone knows why this bullet point is over there on the right, let me know – it’s doing me head in!!)
I’ve been playing a lot of netball. Don’t make me explain that again, America 😉
I saw the Dixie Chicks in Birmingham. I wore a cowboy hat cos it’s supposed to be like country music, innit (though give me Johnny Cash any day). No one else wore a cowboy hat. It was the first time that I really noticed the difference between Americans and the British. Americans aren’t afraid to express themselves. In America, I would have been in the majority dressed like that and we’d have been rocking it. In England, I just looked like a bit of a dick in fancy dress. I also noticed, not for the first time, that British people are really uncomfortable wooping. And even if they do woop, they apologise for it.
Victoria Wood, my very queen of British comedy died. I used to use her Bikini Danfruff monologue as my audition speech for drama school. Amazing, she was.
The Queen turned 90. I was very disappointed. Wot no party, queenie? #shameonyoubuckinghampalace
Game of Thrones is shown here on a Monday night, unlike the USA’s Sunday night featurette. Lucky buggers. I now have to avoid all my American friend’s posts on Facebook for a whole like 16 hours or something ike that. Anyway, do not do SPOILERS, chums – it’s rude!
The Rolling Stones exhibition in London is amazeballs. It was like a litlte piece of heaven for me. I love these British boys. Slightly even more obsessed now, and worried that they’ll die before I get to see them live.
Rock chick at heart!
I’m doing a lot of BBC chat here in Gloucestershire. Recently we talked about what vegetables you keep in your fridge. Fascinating stuff!
People I meet in the UK think Donald Trump is a total looney toon. Of course they do! We Brits don’t tolerate his shenanigans.
We have local elections here soon. People are very concerned about potholes in the roads, apparently. Serious stuff.
I am going to play Mrs Robinson in The Graduate in August. I hope to do it in an American accent. Although I do tend to sound a bit like a drunk southern belle at times, so my American chumbelees told me….
My American friends often call me early morning UK time. That’s like 2am their time. Love them.
My friend Simon Sheridan, who is like a top banana film writer and director, made a film called Respectable: The Mary Millington Storyand I went to the London premiere in Soho, which was like the most exciting thing I’ve done since I’ve been back. And the film is incredible. And it’s available on Netflix in the UK and the USA, so if you want to learn about the British national treasure and the 70s porn industry, you know what to watch. I highly recommend it.
Simon and me with David Sullivan, who is the West Ham dude and top bloke 🙂
Harry loves pasties. Yes, this great British food from the county of Cornwall (or Devon, depending on who you ask). It’s a fave!
I was in the Boots magazine, and got advice about how not to be tired at weekends. Don’t go out so much, I suspect my mother would say!
What a dreadful skirt!
That’s all folks! I won’t leave it as long next time, promise! x
I admit, I’ve been thinking a lot about America recently. I even specifically watched a bunch of American film clips so that I could see the landscape and the cities, and all that jazz that I love, the other week.
But, no denying, there’s a touch of Spring in the English air and that means the flowers are a’blooming, and the land is looking very green and very pleasant indeed. Not being one to turn down an invitation to visit a new place, Harry and I merrily turned up at the Rococo Gardens near Painswick in Gloucestershire with a spring in our step and a wish of wonderment.
If you didn’t know (and I didn’t, really) rococo is a style of art and architecture originating in in France and Italy in the early 1700s. The Hyett family who owned the very British Painswick House and the gardens translated that into a vision in this rather amazing garden. It’s all fabulously fanciful, with breathtaking views, a kitchen garden, secret buildings, mazes and winding paths. And people flock here for the bluebells in Bluebell Walk and the snowdrops in Snowdrop Grove.
Harry declared it ‘delightful’. I thought it wonderous, captivating, enchanting.
Snowdrop Grove
The daffs are out!
Capturing the European essence
Delightful!
Tree carvings
‘I love this land’
I think I might ask to take up residence here and write my Gothic/romantic novel. It’s such a unique, extravagant, pure setting – all rolled into one experience. One moment you’re in the heart of nature looking at a sea of snowdrops, the next you’re weaving your way through a sculpted maze. It’s an eclectic mix of ostentatiousness with its frivolous buildings, alongside the wonder of nature with its careful planting bringing attention to the resident trees and flowers.
Look through the flamboyance of it all and the views are incredible. Harry muttered ‘I love this land’ as he breathed in the vista from the top of the garden.
Yes, England, you are magnificent. And it still surprises me how many people in Gloucestershire have yet to visit these things so close to home. ‘I keep meaning to go there…’. I hear that a lot. Don’t say it, don’t procrastinate peeps. Do it. And definitely go and visit Rococo Gardens, because your heart will leap with joy at this fascinating spectacle right on your doorstep.
And for those Americans, or Brits in America, who keep asking for more photos of special places such as this in the UK – it’s my pleasure 😉
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. Â 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!).
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….’Â
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!!
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! 😉
Four weeks in on the repatriation in the UK, folks.
How’s that working for us?
Happy Britain!
So…..in no particular order
I think I am addicted to Radio 2. I love it and all its British charm and eclectic music offerings. I tried listening to it in the States on odd occasions, but it just seem misplaced during my time out there. I’m back in the Radio 2 groove along with every other bugger!.
The 4 week bit of the repatriation curve is hard. Week 1 is like – ‘ooer, what’s going on here then?’ Week 2 is pretty much spent going ‘oh this is same but different and so much has changed but that’s still the same’; week 3 is mostly spent thinking ‘normality is setting in but I still feel like I’m a bit different and not fully settled……and what the hell is that car doing?! – Oh, Lordy, it’s me supposed to be driving on the left – yikes!’; and week 4 is like ‘oh boy, I miss stuff about Americaland a lot.’ What else is to come?
Harry does not know what a pantomime is, and I almost replied it was the British government, but obviously I stopped imposing my own political views on him. 😉 He now is aware of what a pantomime is, but I am sure it will be fascinating watching him watch one.
The drinks holders in British cars are tiny because they don’t want you to drink water or whatever in your car ever, cos it’s illegal or something. Fact:Â my USA water bottle does not fit in my British hole. Fancy that.
Car parking spaces here are flipping tiny.
Paying for parking everywhere is pain in the arse.
It is now Autumn. and it is cold.
Harry does not know what a Mars Bar is. British childhood confectionary treat, that’s what son!
Rugby is where it’s at for the kiddos here. And Harry, being the expat-repat kid, turns up wearing a Pittsburg Steelers kit, cos that’s how he rocks.
People in Tesco wear their pajamas on a Sunday. Much like Walmart, I gather;)
This week has been an onslaught of very British things invading my senses. My reaction is more often than not thus: oooh I know that thing, but it feels kind of weird, and yet kind of normal too.
Like school for Harry. Obviously it’s been 30-odd years since I went to primary school so it’s naturally changed oodles, but my comparison is, of course, American schooling from the past three years. Honestly, not too sad to leave that behind. Sorry America, much as I love soooo much about you,  I just couldn’t connect with the American school system.
But let’s start with the British school uniform. Cute, yes. Stripping one’s identity? Slightly, but I totally love the rationale behind school uniforms in the UK. Anyhoo, there it is in all its glory. No tie yet though, thank the Lord. There’s a 4-6 week waiting list for that piece of fun.
According to Harry the best things about British school are, in order: ‘toffee sticky pudding’; the ‘boys’ toilets that hang on the wall’; and his lovely teacher, who I am sure gets a lot of attention from the fathers on parents’ evening 😉
Britishcricket
I am actually typing this whilst sitting in glorious British sunshine – the warmest day that I’ve experienced since I’ve been back. Yes, I know it’s still 80 degrees and humid in Maryland, and I miss the hocohomos and the pool etc, but my word this current climate is suitably pleasant to have a cup of tea in whilst in yer t-shirt and whilst not having to worry about bikini issues, if you know what I’m saying ladies.
So, with such a fabulous day today, of course it was the coldest day so far yesterday because we spent it outside at a cricket and beer festival with scarves and jackets and thermal ruddy socks on. That is so very, very British 🙂
Still capitalizing on that expat thing….
Yep, I’m still harping on about being an expat in the USA and that will happen for a while, I suspect. I’m not done yet with cultural comparisons.
So, here is a podcast I did last weekend with my old school chum who is right knowledgeable about languages and culture and stuff. It was super fun talking to him, and I natter on for ages, just to warn you!
I also got a chance to gas on BCC radio here in Gloucestershire last week. I promised the presenter it was only this time on the show that I would use the phrase ‘When I was in America’, cos it gets a tad annoying even to my ears!
Sad sad news
My sad new is this: my glorious American tan that I spent ages cultivating has now faded and I feel all white and puffy, since my abs have also disappeared thanks to excess UK fish and chips and cider. Thank gawd for dry September and St Tropez tanning gel!
My life is full of goodbyes at the moment. My last fitness class happens today, so it’s goodbye to my life as a fitness instructor in the USA. I’ve had Brits in the USA goodbye parties, goodbye dinners with friends, and goodbye to our shipping which left this week and makes its hot and merry way to the UK shores.
One of my saddest goodbyes was to my blogging buddies last night. Blogging has been a huge part of my life and the community in Howard County is a smart, supportive and sassy bunch.
There’s something special about a group of people who share a love of writing, talking about issues and putting observations and opinions out there. And each one of them makes a difference to the community in their own way. I haven’t been able to find anything similar in my home town in the UK, so the thought lingers that perhaps I should take up the blogging community mantle when I return….
Anyway, #hocomd is lucky to have its #hocoblogs community, and I shall miss is greatly.
#hocobloggers
Viva Las Vegas
When thinking of our last vacation in the States we wanted to do something totally different from anything that we will experience in the UK. Vegas it is. Where I will live in the Cotswolds is a world apart from all that I hear Vegas can offer, so I expect to be overwhelmed by the Las Vegas strip and the Grand Canyon before my eyes take in the small villages and quaint shops of my UK home again. A rather crazy last slice of Americana awaits me!
Spot the difference
Bring it on!
Three weeks till we go home, and I say to everyone that I am like a duck on water trying to get upstream at the moment. I’m totally cool on the outside and paddling like mad underneath. And so, so tired.
Desperate Housewife: From America to England 