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
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!).
So, one of the things that America loves about Britain – apart from The Queen, One Direction and the way we say ‘brilliant’ – is our good old fish and chips. I’ve seen and tried American variations of this British cuisine, but it never really had an impact on my tastebuds. Plus, fries just ain’t chips!
So, who’d have known that the home of the very best British fish and chips in the whole of the land is right here in little old Cheltenham?! See, I’ve repatriated to a town with a world-class chippy. Can’t beat that!
Simpsons – winners of the v best fish ‘n’ chips, innit!
Simpsons fish-and-chippers Bonny and James Ritchie are the delightful owners who believe that the best fish and chips should consist of good old, no nonsense natural ingredients… fish, potato and batter – that’s it! Their batter has no MSG, salt or bulking agents and absolutely no artificial colours or flavouring. That’s quality fish and chips, folks!
Haddock and chips 🙂
On our first weekend back here in Cheltenham our friends had us round for supper and were very excited to share Simpsons fayre with us. And rightly so – as far as fish and chips go, it really is the dog’s bollocks, as we Brits say 🙂 If any of you lovely American peeps ever come to stay, you know you’ll be eating here!
Chips and champers!
And the cheeky duo Bonny and James have appeared on the other British institution that is GMTV telling their story and sharing their success. Good for them – they’re a big name in town and last night they had a good old knees up in their very lovely chippy (wots been all done up and has a real 50s vibe) with all sorts of fish and chips to nibble on from their menu – and champagne of course, so that was a super special treat.
In fact, fish and chips and champagne needs to be a new British tradition, cos it rocks. 🙂
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.
Right, there’s some stuff that’s working for me back in England right now…and I feel a right lot smarter for knowing it, so I thought I’d share the knowledge and love…
Shepherds’ Huts
Look at this beauty in Somerset. It’s called the Dimpsey Hut (fyi, ‘dimpsey’ is the the time in the evening just before dusk used by folk in the West Country!)
The history lesson
In the olden days (like 150 years ago), before the advent of artificial fertilizers, distant pastures on many mixed Farms would be inaccessible the to the large farm manure wagons bringing manure from the Farm yard. These would have had a visit from the Shepherd and his flock of Sheep. The Sheep were not allowed to wander freely but were kept enclosed behind wooden hurdles.
This process was called ‘folding’. Once the forage crop had been grazed, the Sheep, Shepherd, his dog and mobile home; his Shepherds Hut, would move to pastures new. The land would then be ploughed, returning the nutrients in the droppings to the land. The Hut contained a small stove, a straw bed over a cage where lambs could be kept (known as a Lamb rack) and a simple medicine cupboard containing various potions. This regularly included a bottle of Whisky to revive a sickly lamb (or Shepherd).
British history lesson over. You can actually win a break to stay in this abode! Awesomeballs! Go here to enter…..
I’ve stayed in this Dimpsey Hut and it’s like a small piece of heaven. If you want to get all snuggly and secluded, like I do, then it is perfect. And since the balmy November week we just had has turned to a crazy cold, bitter wind, I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be. Now that’s spot on British!
Miss Gloria in Louisiana
I recently got a few emails from a lovely lady in Louisiana and it warmed me cockles, as we say here in England! This is what she wrote to me and I just had to share her words:
Thanks
Hello there Ms. Claire,
(using our southern manner of address and five months ago)
We are going to miss you when you’ve gone. Yes we are. We are going to miss your laughter, your joie de vivre, and your funny (meaning ‘amusing’) writing style. We will feel a hole in our hearts when you’ve gone.
We will miss you showing us the things, we would never have thought problematic for someone until you (or another expat) pointed them out to us who grew up here. – Gloria
Hello again (Nov 20, 2015)
Have tried to following you through your repat blog.  Have felt your difficulty in adjustment. Just wanted to say how much you have been missed on Am-soil. Wanted to show my appreciation to your past writings before I forget to let you know or am no longer able to.
About me: (I am old, southern, Louisiana-bilingual-bicultural, former teacher, love to read, used to love to write, but never wrote much. Certainly never published. Can appreciate good writers, and thus so attached to your writing.
May never read you much again so took this opportunity to wish you luck. (Probably never got over belief in grading someone’s work and letting them know my opinion.)
Hope all your wishes for your work or/and dreams come true. I wrote a 2nd note and will send it too. – Gloria
Hello there Ms Claire,
Thank you very much for letting me see my country through your eyes. I enjoyed your presence here immensely. I’ve never enjoyed a blog more. I always had much to react to positively when reading you but was always too shy to attach it in responses for all the world to see. And I had once believed I would write.!
Anyhow, just wanted to tell you of my love for what you write, how you write, and how you write it when you write. Perhaps because there’s a sense of humor (or shall I say humour now that you’ve gone home?) reminiscent of mine. It has always been difficult for me to enjoy the British humour in films or television but your expressions were different all together. – GloriaÂ
Wow! Big shout out to Miss Gloria – I love such correspondence and am waving madly and sending British hugs to her from across the pond! I hope that one day we will meet! I hope that it will be in Louisiana, one of my favourite states! And now her lovely words are immortalised in my blog. Awesomeballs.
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)Â 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! 😉
There is one word on everybody’s lips in the UK right now and this is RUGBY.
I’ll be supporting England, naturally, even though I have France in the sweepstakes. The thing about the UK is that there are loads of peeps from England living in Wales and vice versa and sometimes you’re not too sure who’s supporting what. And then she’s married to a South African, or his mother’s Italian. Who knows who to support?!
I might support Tonga for a bit, only because the dudes are hanging around in Cheltenham and training in the fitness arena and parking their bus up my road. They’re playing a bunch of matches in Gloucester bless them 🙂 Have a quick cider when you can. lads.
“A lot’s changed round here”
That’s what my other half said about Cheltenham town today. I think things have stayed the same more than things have changed. I was so hoping I would find the former neglected/then chain store and pound store land of the lower high street here would be some alternative, hipster, kooky place for us to hang out.
Sadly, it’s not that place, though it has potential to be. I like Cheltenham, but it is an extremely polarised place of class and wealth and culture and non culture. I’m still slightly flummoxed by it. That being said, it’s our third time back in this town, and it’s the best shape I’ve found Cheltenham in since 2000.
Driving on the left hand-side
“Gosh mummy, did you know that you’re on the wrong side of the road?” said wee Harry as as I pulled on to the outside lane of a British dual carriage way. Good for him for noticing and for one moment I had to wonder if we were in for a right motoring mess. 🙂
Magpies
I don’t think there are magpies in America. I don’t remember seeing one, ever. But apparently they exist on the West Coast.
Well, I wonder if they salute in superstition as one is inclined to do here in Britannia. I’ve been saluting non-bloody stop since I’ve got back – I’m surprised it’s not a driving offence as you have to take one hand off the wheel every bloody time 😉
It’s the old August Bank Holibobs which means Monday off for some of us! And this very Sunday is known by many as Sunday Funday. However, for me, it’s DIY Sunday. For three years we’ve not had to do any DIY to our rented house in the USA, but now needs must for upgrading our little UK semi -detached.
Where else to spend a rainy Bank Holiday Sunday than with every other mug who has DIY on the brain than in B&Q. Yes, this British tradition makes me realized that I am now fully immersed in British culture 😉
British stuff through a seven year old’s eyes
I’m totally enjoying seeing and experiencing the UK though Harry’s eyes.
Like the mail dropping on the mat through the letterbox – ‘Someone’s put the post through our door!’ And him having a 99 ice cream and not recognizing a red Royal Mail post box – ‘Is it a photobooth?!’
I suspect school will be a whole different ballgame too next week. Break time, maths with a ‘s’ and spelling. He’s going to love it.
Cider – a very British thing
Actually, make that a  cider and cheese festival. A far more sedate affair than an American festival, and boy Brits do love their cider and cheese!
Desperate Housewife: From America to England 