WARNING contains: Me, unhealthy habit of American drivers, generalization about whole countries full of people, humor or humour, run on sentences and dodgy punctuation.
Today I passed the two tests that make up the first part of the British process of getting a driver's license. It was a fifty question theory test followed by watching fourteen clips wherein one must click whenever a hazard is perceived. This was my second time taking it as I failed the first time by just a couple points on the hazards and one point on the theory.
First, I'll say that the while the theory test is meant to cover the entire highway code, it absolutely biased towards three things: driver attitude, use of lights, and animals. These foci are indicative of British culture in several ways (And I hear you asking where is the funny. It is coming. Didn't I just say animals when referencing a driving test? Patience, grasshopper).
Let's first talk about the reality of driver attitude in the UK. I'd say that overall, especially outside of London, driver's here are very nice to each other. There's lots of letting in, stopping for pedestrians, waving on the other guy, and general "politeness." As you'd expect from the stereotype. Even when drivers here get shirty with each other, I've only once seen someone shouting bloody murder, honking, and gesturing at someone (British people reading this think I don't get out much). I think Brits perceive their fellow drivers as more and more aggressive the closer you get to Parliament and that's not untrue. But if most Brits saw what passes for driver attitude in say LA or on the beltway in DC, they'd be appalled. Can we say shots fired? The driving test too seems to try to emphasize keeping calm and "dropping back to a safe distance." There are a lot of questions about what to do when someone cuts you off, pulls out sharply, or tries to pass you and the answer to all of them is: ignore the behavior.
And now to the headlights. There are apparently a lot of rules about side lights and fog lights and dipped (normal beam) lights. On every practice test and on each of the formal tests I took there were questions stating/to be answered that drivers are not to flash their headlights except "to make other drivers aware of their presence." Here is where British people will laugh out loud while the rest of you are still waiting for animals. The British flash their lights CONSTANTLY. To say "thank you," to say "oh no, you go," to say "no, no, you, I'm in no rush," and to say, "why yes, I see you waiting there, cherrio." They flash their hazards/emergency flashers to say thank you for letting them in if you're behind them. Their flashers! To say THANK YOU. Brits note that in America flashing headlights mean: cops ahead, get the fuck out of my way, and stay the fuck out of it. Every once in a blue moon flashing might mean "you go ahead." On a Sunday, when you're only driving around to get away from your family and you aren't actually headed anywhere and you'll just take an extra swing from your Big Gulp while you wait. Flashing hazards mean your car has dropped its transmission in far lane of the highway and you're praying no one hits you.
And last, but not least, there are ALL the animal questions. In my practice tests I have been asked about the proper way to lead a horse down a road, what to do when a shepherd waves their arms at you, and reminded repeatedly that horses can go any way on a roundabout that they choose so BE PREPARED! The correct answer for the shepherd question is to stop, turn your engine off, and wait for them to tell you when you can go. Road crossings here have all these crazy animal names: zebra, puffin, pelican, toucan, and Pegasus. That last one is a horse crossing and it is the one that totally screws the whole "well, they're all named after black and white animals" logic people have tried to use to excuse this nonsense. I think I've seen a dozen questions involving livestock and another two dozen specifically about horses in the road. I feel like if we wrote driving tests specifically for driving in the rural South, our questions would probably center on deer running across the road, cows refusing to move out of the road, and what to do when a skunk sprays your car (tomato juice by the gallon anyone?) Oh and perhaps possum removal.
A few other things I found note worthy. The hazard perception test was the hardest to pass. The situations are CGI and I kept clicking too early and not getting many points (you get 5-0 based on how soon you see a hazard). The rules said to click when you _perceive_ a hazard. But in the end I learned that I had to click when I saw a hazard, wait a beat and click again in order to get good scores. Why? Because CGI is not real. It is predictable and false. In taking practice tests I scored well on live-action clips from the beginning, but I had to learn how to respond to the CGI clips in an unnatural way. Ironic?
There were a lot of questions about towing caravans/motorhomes. Really? Can't I get my horse to pull it?
And lastly, a note to the DVSA who puts these tests together - ditch the CGI and definitely stop telling people in your highway code to do any of the following. 1) Drive your car that is on fire to the exit of the tunnel you are in if you can. NO. NO. DO not ask a person whose car is on FIRE to drive a second longer, tunnel or not. Stop your car. Get out. Run away. Try not to run into traffic. Lucky you, the FLAMES coming from your car will likely cause other drivers to slow or stop and not run you over. 2) Turn around in the middle of a one way street rather than reversing into a parking spot and then pulling into the street the right way. WHY? Embarrassment? And it seems to me that Brit drivers are extremely happy to reverse into parking spaces. I sit behind someone reversing badly into a space at least once a day. 3) Put your handbrake on when stopped at a light. UM, what? Why? Is this light going to last THAT long? Are my brakes lights really DAZZLING? Let's have a disco by the light of my dazzling red brake lights then since this light will be so long, I'll need the handbrake.
Next stop, the practical test wherein I pray no one throws flaming sheep at my car in a tunnel.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
OK, You Win Christmas.
Warning: contains gross generalizations about whole countries of people, hear-say, humor, exaggeration, and things based solely on my experience.
I have to declare, after my first Christmas "at home" in England, that the British really do Christmas far better than we do in America (with the exception of not containing all my beloved family, my friends, good guacamole, coffee cake, nor TraderJoe's). Let me explain...and note that if you're not a Christmas celebrator, for whatever reason, on that front the UK doesn't really offer much relief. Sorry.
Christmas music begins in early December, not November, and it is just a smattering of tunes until about the 20th and then it is still by no means non-stop. There is a daily radio reminder of how many days there are until Christmas and countdown clocks in many places as well as decorations and sales of Christmas things all around. But that incessant drone of every cheesy tune recorded and recorded a hundred times, that inability to turn on a radio or shop in store without being bombarded by MariahCarey, the pain of going into any waiting room - it just doesn't happen here. I know! I see you plotting your UK visa application as we speak. Sweet relief!
A brief post-script to the music thing - they don't seem to do the novelty songs here at all. No Adam Sandler song's to nod at Chanukah, no Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. Nada. Though some of their native tunes (songs recorded by British artists over the years that never made it to the US for good reason) border on inadvertent humor tunes.
In a few years time I'll probably regret this, but the fact that virtually every event, service, informal gathering, shopping center, party, road-side stand, Christmas tree farm, historic house, garden shop, Santa's Grotto (see below), end of term parent meetings, YOU NAME IT offers you a mince pie and mulled wine (or non-alcoholic hot cider) is kind of adorable. The average Brit consumes about 27 mince pies every Christmas (7 million are left out on Xmas Eve for Santa along with liquor, not milk) and as far as I can tell only a handful of those are eaten at home. The rest are being handed out, sold for charity, or bought at a ridiculous mark-up in tea shops and cafes all over the country. The mulled wine too flows everywhere. Alcohol consumption in the UK rises by about 40% over the holidays and I'm guessing the mulled wine pushers on every corner are at least partly responsible.
Ok, you waited patiently, a "Santa's Grotto" is like the mall Santa thing in America. And just like in the States there is a great variety and quality to these spots. It seems where I am that every "garden center" (that's garden/home store to y'all) has one of these. We went to one at the "rural life center" nearby that had a steam train drive you out to a small village with displays, animals, elves working in a workshop, and a Santa that knew the kids' names and gave them a present. No photo packages were offered. The gifts were not sponsored by Coca-cola. Of course, the Santa was also just kind of OK (fake beard, pillow substituting for mince pie fed bowl full of jelly). You can do more commercial Grottos but they're not the only or most popular options.
What I am told is a more recent tradition here, is my favorite. The churches here do an afternoon service on Christmas Eve (and since the sun goes down at 3:30, it is dark at 5 for it!) wherein the kids are all invited to dress up! You can come as any character from the Nativity story. Then when they do the readings, the kids participate. The angels lead the shepherds, the stars lead the wise men, and all the Mary's, Joseph's, and barnyard beasts hang out in the barn. It is nothing short of adorable.
Someone here commented to me that they felt Christmas in the UK was more commercial than in the US. They said this because the US has a reputation here for being more non-secular. Funnily, I find it almost the opposite. Christmas is a bigger deal, a larger celebration in the UK. Though is isn't necessarily in-your-face-Jesus here, I think it is hard to avoid and would be hard to participate in other celebrations at or near Christmas as they are definitely over-looked. Whereas in America, it can feel SO commercial. SO you MUST be MERRY. And in both places there is pressure to give lots of presents, to almost give more than you can or should "because it's Christmas." Maybe I am seeing it differently as a first timer, maybe I'm looking back at America with skewed vision too. But I have enjoyed the Christmas season here in the UK. There are literally hundred of activities and events centered around the holiday, some secular and some not, all fairly cool and fun. Want to ice skate? Want to shop in an out-door Christmas market? Want to ride a carousel and eat hot chestnuts? Want to see a group of reenactors make a Tudor Christmas dinner? Want a sleigh ride? Want to watch a farcical version of fairy tale (aka a Pantomine*)? There's one on every day in December. No really. Every day.
One last tiny thing I learned that I found fascinating. The last day of work (for most middle class people) before the "hols" is a huge party day. The amount of alcohol purchased nation-wide on this day is higher than Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. That's a lot of office party hangovers!
Thanks for reading and I wish you a new year filled with love and light plus a little pain and darkness so you can be extra thankful for the good stuff.
PS - Love Actually film fans, the whole "Christmas Number One" song thing is actually really a thing! But sadly, there were no lobsters in any nativity plays I saw.
*I haven't been to a live Pantomine. I will go one day. But until then, if you don't know what I mean and you live in Raleigh, it is like Ira's A Christmas Carol but more crass. Everyone else, it is like the Three Stooges meets Disney meets South Park (with less cursing).
I have to declare, after my first Christmas "at home" in England, that the British really do Christmas far better than we do in America (with the exception of not containing all my beloved family, my friends, good guacamole, coffee cake, nor TraderJoe's). Let me explain...and note that if you're not a Christmas celebrator, for whatever reason, on that front the UK doesn't really offer much relief. Sorry.
Christmas music begins in early December, not November, and it is just a smattering of tunes until about the 20th and then it is still by no means non-stop. There is a daily radio reminder of how many days there are until Christmas and countdown clocks in many places as well as decorations and sales of Christmas things all around. But that incessant drone of every cheesy tune recorded and recorded a hundred times, that inability to turn on a radio or shop in store without being bombarded by MariahCarey, the pain of going into any waiting room - it just doesn't happen here. I know! I see you plotting your UK visa application as we speak. Sweet relief!
A brief post-script to the music thing - they don't seem to do the novelty songs here at all. No Adam Sandler song's to nod at Chanukah, no Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. Nada. Though some of their native tunes (songs recorded by British artists over the years that never made it to the US for good reason) border on inadvertent humor tunes.
In a few years time I'll probably regret this, but the fact that virtually every event, service, informal gathering, shopping center, party, road-side stand, Christmas tree farm, historic house, garden shop, Santa's Grotto (see below), end of term parent meetings, YOU NAME IT offers you a mince pie and mulled wine (or non-alcoholic hot cider) is kind of adorable. The average Brit consumes about 27 mince pies every Christmas (7 million are left out on Xmas Eve for Santa along with liquor, not milk) and as far as I can tell only a handful of those are eaten at home. The rest are being handed out, sold for charity, or bought at a ridiculous mark-up in tea shops and cafes all over the country. The mulled wine too flows everywhere. Alcohol consumption in the UK rises by about 40% over the holidays and I'm guessing the mulled wine pushers on every corner are at least partly responsible.
Ok, you waited patiently, a "Santa's Grotto" is like the mall Santa thing in America. And just like in the States there is a great variety and quality to these spots. It seems where I am that every "garden center" (that's garden/home store to y'all) has one of these. We went to one at the "rural life center" nearby that had a steam train drive you out to a small village with displays, animals, elves working in a workshop, and a Santa that knew the kids' names and gave them a present. No photo packages were offered. The gifts were not sponsored by Coca-cola. Of course, the Santa was also just kind of OK (fake beard, pillow substituting for mince pie fed bowl full of jelly). You can do more commercial Grottos but they're not the only or most popular options.
What I am told is a more recent tradition here, is my favorite. The churches here do an afternoon service on Christmas Eve (and since the sun goes down at 3:30, it is dark at 5 for it!) wherein the kids are all invited to dress up! You can come as any character from the Nativity story. Then when they do the readings, the kids participate. The angels lead the shepherds, the stars lead the wise men, and all the Mary's, Joseph's, and barnyard beasts hang out in the barn. It is nothing short of adorable.
Someone here commented to me that they felt Christmas in the UK was more commercial than in the US. They said this because the US has a reputation here for being more non-secular. Funnily, I find it almost the opposite. Christmas is a bigger deal, a larger celebration in the UK. Though is isn't necessarily in-your-face-Jesus here, I think it is hard to avoid and would be hard to participate in other celebrations at or near Christmas as they are definitely over-looked. Whereas in America, it can feel SO commercial. SO you MUST be MERRY. And in both places there is pressure to give lots of presents, to almost give more than you can or should "because it's Christmas." Maybe I am seeing it differently as a first timer, maybe I'm looking back at America with skewed vision too. But I have enjoyed the Christmas season here in the UK. There are literally hundred of activities and events centered around the holiday, some secular and some not, all fairly cool and fun. Want to ice skate? Want to shop in an out-door Christmas market? Want to ride a carousel and eat hot chestnuts? Want to see a group of reenactors make a Tudor Christmas dinner? Want a sleigh ride? Want to watch a farcical version of fairy tale (aka a Pantomine*)? There's one on every day in December. No really. Every day.
One last tiny thing I learned that I found fascinating. The last day of work (for most middle class people) before the "hols" is a huge party day. The amount of alcohol purchased nation-wide on this day is higher than Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. That's a lot of office party hangovers!
Thanks for reading and I wish you a new year filled with love and light plus a little pain and darkness so you can be extra thankful for the good stuff.
PS - Love Actually film fans, the whole "Christmas Number One" song thing is actually really a thing! But sadly, there were no lobsters in any nativity plays I saw.
*I haven't been to a live Pantomine. I will go one day. But until then, if you don't know what I mean and you live in Raleigh, it is like Ira's A Christmas Carol but more crass. Everyone else, it is like the Three Stooges meets Disney meets South Park (with less cursing).
Saturday, December 13, 2014
An Honest Holiday Newsletter
WARNING: contains totally made up things and real things and exaggerated things.
Merry Christmas, nearly, and Happy Hanukkah and, well, there are just so many options. Whatever yours is, I hope you have a great time or at least get a few nice naps in so you're refreshed!
Our year has been just spectacular. Little Joey has become a real problem eater; he just screams at most every meal until the rest of us can't stand it. So his diet is largely made up of yogurt, fig newtons, and goldfish crackers. It's not the best, but it works for us! He's also having a great time in daycare a few days a week while I look for work (gotta pay for Marsha's piano lessons somehow!). I'm told he likes to bite the other children and occasionally steals pacifiers with fresh drool to use for himself. This explains the multiple rounds of stomach flu and regular flu we've had in the house for the past six months. He is still awfully cute though and has taken to calling Daddy "poop, poop."
Speaking of Marsha, she's growing up so fast and makes us laugh every day. She's started kindergarden this year and has surprised us all by being sent to the principal's office twice for stealing another girl's lunch box. It's a Bratz lunch box like the one we wouldn't buy her. She keeps taking it and trying to make the other girl keep her Dora the Explorer box. Still, Marsha has also been learning to read and write. We're so proud of her letter to Santa this year. She wrote quite clearly that she'd like a "bicycle, shoes, and a new mama." Our proudest moment though came during the school Christmas play, just yesterday. While sitting on stage in her adorable donkey costume, she began to chew her toenails. With her mouth. While center stage. I have photos!
Billy, our oldest, started third grade this year and with the exception of his math teacher telling us that he's at least a year behind all his peers, it has been a stellar first semester. We would tutor him, but we don't understand the new math. So perhaps those piano lesson will have to wait as we find the money for a math coach. Oh well, at least he's enjoying playing football. His dad says little Billy has become quite the bench warmer! Billy's greatest skill though is his kindness, he's the sweetest big brother he could be, for which I am extremely thankful.
But how are Jeff and I you ask? Well, between his long hours at work, financial pressures, my exhaustion, and our oppressively judgmental in-laws, I'm not sure we know. We had to stop having a once a month date-night after my mother scared the kids with a bed time story involving Wall Street "pirates" pillaging the "99%" and leaving us all "homeless and abandoned by the state." When we do get a few minutes together, we both agree our kids are nuts but may come by it naturally. We day dream about when the kids are older and start ignoring us so we can get to know each other again. Then we stop and look at each other's photos and videos of them and try not to cry about how lucky we are to have them and our crazy little life.
From our family to yours, dear friends and family, we wish for you a year like ours filled with mistakes, shenanigans, laughter, tears, fights, make-ups, winning, losing, togetherness, and all the things you'd like to ask Santa for and more (except for a new mama. y'all are stuck with me and I love you.)
Holiday Greetings from the whole Oslott-Joseph Family?!?!
Merry Christmas, nearly, and Happy Hanukkah and, well, there are just so many options. Whatever yours is, I hope you have a great time or at least get a few nice naps in so you're refreshed!
Our year has been just spectacular. Little Joey has become a real problem eater; he just screams at most every meal until the rest of us can't stand it. So his diet is largely made up of yogurt, fig newtons, and goldfish crackers. It's not the best, but it works for us! He's also having a great time in daycare a few days a week while I look for work (gotta pay for Marsha's piano lessons somehow!). I'm told he likes to bite the other children and occasionally steals pacifiers with fresh drool to use for himself. This explains the multiple rounds of stomach flu and regular flu we've had in the house for the past six months. He is still awfully cute though and has taken to calling Daddy "poop, poop."
Speaking of Marsha, she's growing up so fast and makes us laugh every day. She's started kindergarden this year and has surprised us all by being sent to the principal's office twice for stealing another girl's lunch box. It's a Bratz lunch box like the one we wouldn't buy her. She keeps taking it and trying to make the other girl keep her Dora the Explorer box. Still, Marsha has also been learning to read and write. We're so proud of her letter to Santa this year. She wrote quite clearly that she'd like a "bicycle, shoes, and a new mama." Our proudest moment though came during the school Christmas play, just yesterday. While sitting on stage in her adorable donkey costume, she began to chew her toenails. With her mouth. While center stage. I have photos!
Billy, our oldest, started third grade this year and with the exception of his math teacher telling us that he's at least a year behind all his peers, it has been a stellar first semester. We would tutor him, but we don't understand the new math. So perhaps those piano lesson will have to wait as we find the money for a math coach. Oh well, at least he's enjoying playing football. His dad says little Billy has become quite the bench warmer! Billy's greatest skill though is his kindness, he's the sweetest big brother he could be, for which I am extremely thankful.
But how are Jeff and I you ask? Well, between his long hours at work, financial pressures, my exhaustion, and our oppressively judgmental in-laws, I'm not sure we know. We had to stop having a once a month date-night after my mother scared the kids with a bed time story involving Wall Street "pirates" pillaging the "99%" and leaving us all "homeless and abandoned by the state." When we do get a few minutes together, we both agree our kids are nuts but may come by it naturally. We day dream about when the kids are older and start ignoring us so we can get to know each other again. Then we stop and look at each other's photos and videos of them and try not to cry about how lucky we are to have them and our crazy little life.
From our family to yours, dear friends and family, we wish for you a year like ours filled with mistakes, shenanigans, laughter, tears, fights, make-ups, winning, losing, togetherness, and all the things you'd like to ask Santa for and more (except for a new mama. y'all are stuck with me and I love you.)
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Cross-cultural Exchange: Put on your sweats and bodge it.
I recently watched an episode of Castle wherein one of the lead characters used one of my favorite British-ism, knackered (meaning really tired), and calling redheads "ginger" is definitely being used more widely. I've seen a few articles saying that British slang words are on the rise in America thanks to Harry Potter, Doctor Who and Downton Abbey. Overall, I think this is a good thing but I believe we can learn from each other on both sides of the pond. Here are but a few examples of words I think the Brits might want to adopt, plus a few things the Americans might enjoy championing the use of over there.
First and foremost, "sidewalk." I cannot tell you how difficult it is as a parent to attempt to retrain my brain and mouth to say "pavement" instead of sidewalk. In America, the pavement is the road! So imagine telling your child, "Please stay on the road!" Which is what it feels like to me to say pavement. Honestly, doesn't sidewalk just make sense? It is the walking area beside the road. And yes, I know it is also known as a "footpath" but so is a muddy track as is the stone path in my back garden (garden sounds prettier than yard, I'm good with this one). Let's just accept the Americans have the better idea here.
Next, please call them "sweats" instead of "tracksuit bottoms." Such a mouthful for what are essentially trousers one wears to do something strenuous or, alternatively, lay around the house. Let's just call them what they are for rather trying imply we are all going for a run around a mythical track in a dream of fitness glory. I've heard people call them "trackies" but that's really not better and for me evokes an image of people addicted to dog racing, gripping betting forms and smoking half crumpled cigarettes.
As the temperatures begin to fall, can we drop the pretense and just say "sweater"? Even you don't know why you call a sweater a "jumper." I've seen several children's first words books label various things jumpers including one-piece dresses, sweaters, and overalls - I'm sorry, they can't ALL be a jumper. Sweater is evocative of what it is and we can agree that it is just for knitwear worn on the top of the body, generally over another shirt. Thanks. Wasn't that easy?
Now to the naming of types of schools. The British really just need to scrap their terms and start again because it makes no sense whatsoever. A "public school" is what Americans know as "private school", which makes the phrase "public school kid" into a classist insult in the UK. A "state school" is known as "public school" in America whereas a "state school" is usually just one of perhaps several American state-sponsored universities and colleges. I am sure the British system is rooted in tradition and history but so was beheading and nowadays we find that repulsive too.
In the interest of equal time here are four British words I think Americans would enjoy using.
I love the word "bodge." It means to put together quickly just so the thing will work. Honestly, this is the American way. Why don't we use this word already?
The word shambolic, while not disused in the US, deserves a renaissance. It means chaotic, disorganized, or muddled. Can anyone say American politics? Also, this is an excellent alternative to the not always socially acceptable "cluster fuck."
Say this one with me, "He got quite shirty with me!" It can mean rude but mostly it means pompous or perhaps flustered. For some reason this one really paints a picture for me. I imagine someone doing up their top buttons on their shirt or pulling a sweater in at the collar harshly while lecturing me on something inconsequential.
This last one I am less sure of because it is overused in Britain, especially with children - cheeky. I like it because it portrays well the playful nature of misbehavior, in particular with kids, but I've also heard it used to excuse sexist comments from men as humorous. I leave this one to you America, you bunch of cheeky monkeys. (see, that could really go either way.)
OH, but I have to add one cute phrase that WeeC has adopted - easy peasy, lemon squeezie. It is just kind of adorable. Use it instead of "easy as pie" because pie making is actually not that easy while squeezing a lemon is very straightforward!
First and foremost, "sidewalk." I cannot tell you how difficult it is as a parent to attempt to retrain my brain and mouth to say "pavement" instead of sidewalk. In America, the pavement is the road! So imagine telling your child, "Please stay on the road!" Which is what it feels like to me to say pavement. Honestly, doesn't sidewalk just make sense? It is the walking area beside the road. And yes, I know it is also known as a "footpath" but so is a muddy track as is the stone path in my back garden (garden sounds prettier than yard, I'm good with this one). Let's just accept the Americans have the better idea here.
Next, please call them "sweats" instead of "tracksuit bottoms." Such a mouthful for what are essentially trousers one wears to do something strenuous or, alternatively, lay around the house. Let's just call them what they are for rather trying imply we are all going for a run around a mythical track in a dream of fitness glory. I've heard people call them "trackies" but that's really not better and for me evokes an image of people addicted to dog racing, gripping betting forms and smoking half crumpled cigarettes.
As the temperatures begin to fall, can we drop the pretense and just say "sweater"? Even you don't know why you call a sweater a "jumper." I've seen several children's first words books label various things jumpers including one-piece dresses, sweaters, and overalls - I'm sorry, they can't ALL be a jumper. Sweater is evocative of what it is and we can agree that it is just for knitwear worn on the top of the body, generally over another shirt. Thanks. Wasn't that easy?
Now to the naming of types of schools. The British really just need to scrap their terms and start again because it makes no sense whatsoever. A "public school" is what Americans know as "private school", which makes the phrase "public school kid" into a classist insult in the UK. A "state school" is known as "public school" in America whereas a "state school" is usually just one of perhaps several American state-sponsored universities and colleges. I am sure the British system is rooted in tradition and history but so was beheading and nowadays we find that repulsive too.
In the interest of equal time here are four British words I think Americans would enjoy using.
I love the word "bodge." It means to put together quickly just so the thing will work. Honestly, this is the American way. Why don't we use this word already?
The word shambolic, while not disused in the US, deserves a renaissance. It means chaotic, disorganized, or muddled. Can anyone say American politics? Also, this is an excellent alternative to the not always socially acceptable "cluster fuck."
Say this one with me, "He got quite shirty with me!" It can mean rude but mostly it means pompous or perhaps flustered. For some reason this one really paints a picture for me. I imagine someone doing up their top buttons on their shirt or pulling a sweater in at the collar harshly while lecturing me on something inconsequential.
This last one I am less sure of because it is overused in Britain, especially with children - cheeky. I like it because it portrays well the playful nature of misbehavior, in particular with kids, but I've also heard it used to excuse sexist comments from men as humorous. I leave this one to you America, you bunch of cheeky monkeys. (see, that could really go either way.)
OH, but I have to add one cute phrase that WeeC has adopted - easy peasy, lemon squeezie. It is just kind of adorable. Use it instead of "easy as pie" because pie making is actually not that easy while squeezing a lemon is very straightforward!
Friday, November 7, 2014
Coming Home?
WARNING contains: grammar, gross generalizations about whole countries full of people, me, exaggerations, biscuits, and origami.
I recently traveled back to the good ol' US of A for the first time since moving to England. We took the whole family to my birth place, Georgia, and spent time with each of my parents plus other family and even squeezed in a trip back to North Carolina to see friends.
Being home did not feel strange or even hard won, having been away only about nine months. Since I've made my home in North Carolina for several years, visiting my family in Georgia feels normal to me. The temporary nature of the time spent, the focus on being together, the desire for comfort foods, and the even the feeling of sadness when it is finished - are all very familiar to me as someone who has lived away from my childhood home for such a long time.
Visiting North Carolina was a little odd, but only because every interaction over the mere 24 hours I spent there was tinged with a bit of sadness. That feeling of needing to savor and to say important things before it all goes away. It was odd to try to talk about daily life things. I kept wanting to impart something major when all I really needed to do was be present. In the end, I think I did a good job of focusing on the moments spent with friends whom I miss dearly.
Almost everyone asked me variations of the following two questions:
1. What do you miss most about America? (beyond all my friends and family, cos obviously LOTS!)
2. What do you love about where you live now?
So in case I didn't see you or I didn't answer you when you asked or you're just wondering, here are the answers.
I miss biscuits and iced tea (yes, I can make these. Not. The. Same.) I miss ch1ck_fil@ (sorry, don't want brands searchable, you figure it out) because they're so helpful to moms with kids. I miss St@rbuck3 drive-thru. But let me tell you, my ass doesn't! I lost eight pounds during our first two months in the UK and I'm pretty sure I can chalk it up almost completely to to the total lack of drive-thru and fast food where I live now. Seriously y'all, I gained four pounds on our trip, all carbs and tea.
I miss people being nice and saying hello and helping me of their own volition. This is partially a Southern (US) thing versus a southern UK thing. The southern US is known for hospitality, while that's more the case in northern Britain and the south here is known as more urban and cold personality wise; the reverse of the American stereotype. I've largely found this to be true. People just don't go out of their way. Certainly, not everyone in the southern US is falling over themselves to help out strangers, but people hold doors when you have a stroller. They say, "have a nice day," and mean it. They don't mind a little light chit chat. Sometimes, I find the Brits in my area to be quite distant. Though, I have also had success with "killing them with kindness" too and some folks seem quite open to my openness. Just not as much as home. I've found a good local coffee shop where mostly the people are nice and respond well to my outgoing nature. That's a comforting thing to have access to on hard day.
I miss Target; or maybe just everything I need being in one place. I miss knowing about how much good and services should cost or knowing someone who knows. Having recently bought a house in the UK, it is impossible to convey just how frustrating it is not know these things. We bought a natural gas powered tumble dryer as it is far more environmentally friendly but cannot find anyone to install it as a special certification is needed. I got estimates on work we had done to the house, but was mostly at the mercy or tradespeople.
I miss bear hugs from friends and family. Brits don't full body hug.
What was most interesting about the trip though were the things I missed a bit about England. Naturally, I missed being in a house with easy access to all my things and more flexibility with timing for activities as well as time with my husband (he worked in NC half the trip and the rest of the time we were too tired to talk to each other most nights). But I didn't expect to miss anything else.
I missed the fine British art of receipt folding. When you've made a purchase at a shop here, the cashier folds your receipt at least once, sometimes two or three times, before handing it to you. It may be the only time they make eye contact with you, depending on the store, and it is a nice little moment. Americans often lay it down on a table/counter or just shove your receipt at you, sometimes even looking at the next customer while they do it.
I missed easy access to parks/play areas/activities for kids. I will hand it to the fine folks of Surrey County. There's a lot for kids to do and see around here and it's all fairly close by. I'm from near Atlanta, so everything must driven to and it can take 30 minutes or even an hour or more to get to something. You can play on school playgrounds, but only when the school is not in session and other play grounds are around, but not with the frequency you'll find in Surrey. I can walk to a play park in two minutes from where I live now. Where we rented before, there were three play parks, a community pool, and two water areas with ducks within fifteen minutes walk. There are also a number of indoor (for obvious, British Isles reasons) play places and very child friendly museums and historic sites around. Where we lived in North Carolina was quite child friendly and I had plenty to do there with the kids, but there's more variety here and literally some kid friendly thing to do/go/see every single weekend on Saturdays AND Sundays.
I missed better drivers. Sorry you freedom loving, texting and ranting while driving, drinking and eating in your car, DVD watching, sound system cranking, leaning hard American drivers. You suck. You are selfish and dangerous. The Brits respect the passing lane as a place to speed past other cars; not as a place to park yourself with your cruise control set at the speed limit. People rarely talk on their phones and drive let alone text. I do see people using hands-free systems to make calls, but the iprayer position as you hurtle down the freeway at 55 miles an hour (the speed limit is 70 and you're in the passing lane, having slowed down when you picked up to see your latest fantasy football stats) just doesn't happen much. I say this having had someone honk at me this morning as I drove my oldest to school. I wasn't going through the round-about fast enough for them. But it is such a rarity that it occurred to me that I was previously unsure what a car horn sounded like in the UK.
There it is people. My summary judgement of America versus the UK after about ten months of living in England and 11 days back in the US. If I saw you, don't forget to give me a big hug when next we meet. If I didn't see you, I owe you a big huge hug when I finally get my grubby paws on you. I love you America; your biscuits, your tea, your "Hey there!" and the generosity of spirit that your people share with strangers and friends alike. And I miss all your good people.
I recently traveled back to the good ol' US of A for the first time since moving to England. We took the whole family to my birth place, Georgia, and spent time with each of my parents plus other family and even squeezed in a trip back to North Carolina to see friends.
Being home did not feel strange or even hard won, having been away only about nine months. Since I've made my home in North Carolina for several years, visiting my family in Georgia feels normal to me. The temporary nature of the time spent, the focus on being together, the desire for comfort foods, and the even the feeling of sadness when it is finished - are all very familiar to me as someone who has lived away from my childhood home for such a long time.
Visiting North Carolina was a little odd, but only because every interaction over the mere 24 hours I spent there was tinged with a bit of sadness. That feeling of needing to savor and to say important things before it all goes away. It was odd to try to talk about daily life things. I kept wanting to impart something major when all I really needed to do was be present. In the end, I think I did a good job of focusing on the moments spent with friends whom I miss dearly.
Almost everyone asked me variations of the following two questions:
1. What do you miss most about America? (beyond all my friends and family, cos obviously LOTS!)
2. What do you love about where you live now?
So in case I didn't see you or I didn't answer you when you asked or you're just wondering, here are the answers.
I miss biscuits and iced tea (yes, I can make these. Not. The. Same.) I miss ch1ck_fil@ (sorry, don't want brands searchable, you figure it out) because they're so helpful to moms with kids. I miss St@rbuck3 drive-thru. But let me tell you, my ass doesn't! I lost eight pounds during our first two months in the UK and I'm pretty sure I can chalk it up almost completely to to the total lack of drive-thru and fast food where I live now. Seriously y'all, I gained four pounds on our trip, all carbs and tea.
I miss people being nice and saying hello and helping me of their own volition. This is partially a Southern (US) thing versus a southern UK thing. The southern US is known for hospitality, while that's more the case in northern Britain and the south here is known as more urban and cold personality wise; the reverse of the American stereotype. I've largely found this to be true. People just don't go out of their way. Certainly, not everyone in the southern US is falling over themselves to help out strangers, but people hold doors when you have a stroller. They say, "have a nice day," and mean it. They don't mind a little light chit chat. Sometimes, I find the Brits in my area to be quite distant. Though, I have also had success with "killing them with kindness" too and some folks seem quite open to my openness. Just not as much as home. I've found a good local coffee shop where mostly the people are nice and respond well to my outgoing nature. That's a comforting thing to have access to on hard day.
I miss Target; or maybe just everything I need being in one place. I miss knowing about how much good and services should cost or knowing someone who knows. Having recently bought a house in the UK, it is impossible to convey just how frustrating it is not know these things. We bought a natural gas powered tumble dryer as it is far more environmentally friendly but cannot find anyone to install it as a special certification is needed. I got estimates on work we had done to the house, but was mostly at the mercy or tradespeople.
I miss bear hugs from friends and family. Brits don't full body hug.
What was most interesting about the trip though were the things I missed a bit about England. Naturally, I missed being in a house with easy access to all my things and more flexibility with timing for activities as well as time with my husband (he worked in NC half the trip and the rest of the time we were too tired to talk to each other most nights). But I didn't expect to miss anything else.
I missed the fine British art of receipt folding. When you've made a purchase at a shop here, the cashier folds your receipt at least once, sometimes two or three times, before handing it to you. It may be the only time they make eye contact with you, depending on the store, and it is a nice little moment. Americans often lay it down on a table/counter or just shove your receipt at you, sometimes even looking at the next customer while they do it.
I missed easy access to parks/play areas/activities for kids. I will hand it to the fine folks of Surrey County. There's a lot for kids to do and see around here and it's all fairly close by. I'm from near Atlanta, so everything must driven to and it can take 30 minutes or even an hour or more to get to something. You can play on school playgrounds, but only when the school is not in session and other play grounds are around, but not with the frequency you'll find in Surrey. I can walk to a play park in two minutes from where I live now. Where we rented before, there were three play parks, a community pool, and two water areas with ducks within fifteen minutes walk. There are also a number of indoor (for obvious, British Isles reasons) play places and very child friendly museums and historic sites around. Where we lived in North Carolina was quite child friendly and I had plenty to do there with the kids, but there's more variety here and literally some kid friendly thing to do/go/see every single weekend on Saturdays AND Sundays.
I missed better drivers. Sorry you freedom loving, texting and ranting while driving, drinking and eating in your car, DVD watching, sound system cranking, leaning hard American drivers. You suck. You are selfish and dangerous. The Brits respect the passing lane as a place to speed past other cars; not as a place to park yourself with your cruise control set at the speed limit. People rarely talk on their phones and drive let alone text. I do see people using hands-free systems to make calls, but the iprayer position as you hurtle down the freeway at 55 miles an hour (the speed limit is 70 and you're in the passing lane, having slowed down when you picked up to see your latest fantasy football stats) just doesn't happen much. I say this having had someone honk at me this morning as I drove my oldest to school. I wasn't going through the round-about fast enough for them. But it is such a rarity that it occurred to me that I was previously unsure what a car horn sounded like in the UK.
There it is people. My summary judgement of America versus the UK after about ten months of living in England and 11 days back in the US. If I saw you, don't forget to give me a big hug when next we meet. If I didn't see you, I owe you a big huge hug when I finally get my grubby paws on you. I love you America; your biscuits, your tea, your "Hey there!" and the generosity of spirit that your people share with strangers and friends alike. And I miss all your good people.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Viv and Cal
competition entry :O
“Ghosts don’t sing in tune you know,” she said, twirling a length of red hair around her thumb, the tip purpling. “It can drive you crazy.”
I’d met Sarah over a week ago, but I can’t say I knew her better. She offers these declarations, “The vet said my pet frog died of influenza. I think he was murdered.” But never carries on with an explanation or the slightest hint of mirth. I mean, that may be my fault, as despite being thirteen and Scottish, I’m really bad at spotting sarcastic, dry humor; especially here in America. So, as I watched Sarah allow her thumb tip to survive another day, I finally broke.
“Ok, how do you know ghosts don’t sing in tune? And why would anyone murder a frog? And, well, that’s just the beginning of my questions. Because, I’m sorry, but I can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg or just a really dark person or , I dunno, weird.” I wished I hadn’t said weird the moment it pushed its way into the air. I am weird. What’s more, Sarah knows it. I think it may be the only reason she speaks to me. So to imply that perhaps I don’t like weird people is both wrong and dangerous to our new and fragile friendship. “Not that any of that is bad. I’d just like to know because I’m not good at telling when you’re serious.”
“Is it the accent? Like, you can’t tell by tone? I have a hard time telling if you’re serious sometimes, especially when you talk about Scotland. Like, do people there really eat sheep stomach?” Sarah said the last two words in an approximation of my accent. I tried not to smile.
“We do. Now, answer my bloody questions woman.” No good. I smiled.
Sarah took a slow breath. Her pale skin pinked under the splatter of freckles across her cheeks, “I see dead people.”
“Ok, that was a joke, right?”
Sarah had been reclined on a large root of the oak tree we lounged under, but she sat forward to look me in the eyes and said, “Yes.” The sideways autumn sunlight made shadow shapes on the ground.
I sensed I was not going to get any answers so I boldly stood up, dusted my trousers and hoisted up my backpack, as though leaving.
“I think you have a hard time knowing when people are joking because you don’t joke much yourself.” She cocked her head and furrowed orange brows.
“Perhaps. But that doesn’t answer my questions.” I attempted a sigh.
Sarah stood as she spoke, not looking at me, “My mother killed herself in our house two years ago. Sometimes...I think I hear her singing. She never could sing worth a damn, so maybe ‘ghosts’ is too much of a generalization.”
I took her hand to steady her as she wobbled, off kilter on the root. I promised myself not to let go, if she didn’t let go. She didn’t.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
How Scottish...
My writing prompt from weeks ago was to think about the word “ancestors” and what it means/evokes. Honestly, I was too busy to really think on it. But tonight I got the news that a friend, a once close friend, from university has died. The moment I read the news, I had an instant image in my mind of him in a formal kilt, white button down shirt and tie with a glass of whiskey in hand. I think there might have been a sword as well. In fact, I am certain there was a sword. This gentleman was, at least in university, a bit attached to his Scottishness. He had this mild accent that crept into his speech which naturally increased with passion and/or liquor. He knew a lot about his heritage, as many Americans do, but sort of took his knowledge and admiration to a different level. He completely defied that “first generation loses all signs of the motherland” thing.
If you’re a fan of Doctor Who or, most recently, Arrow, then you know who Jack Barrowman is and that his outtakes are hysterical. No, I have not changed the subject. John was born and partly raised a Glaswegian but then moved to Chicago. Both accents come naturally to him and he occasionally forgets which one he should be using. So his outtakes on are often very funny. It wasn’t until I saw these, years after university, that I started to understand why my college friend would come in and out of the accent. And why it wasn’t, probably, an act. In particular, I felt in college that my friend was just being a bit pretentious. Which he was. If you can’t be pretentious at university, especially at the University of Virginia, when the hell can you be? But he was also genuinely forgetful about his not actually being “really” Scottish and what he sounded like to others. That’s how much he wanted to be a true Scot.
By a similar token, I once thought I was a bit more Irish-American than American-with-a-lot-Irish-heritage. Then I lived in Ireland via study abroad. My third day in Dublin I said to a kind shopkeeper, “Have a nice day.” And she laughed loudly and remarked, “So you Americans do really say that.” I told her we did and that I meant it. I tried to watch an Irish soap opera and found I couldn’t understand half the dialogue. Then, I went to a Irish music jam session and though I desperately wanted to join in, I couldn’t figure out how. My life in Ireland for four months illustrated to me very clearly that I was nothing but a silly American with delusions of celticness.
I think a lot of Americans feel this “tie” to another homeland. We may know our family history back many hundreds of years even. But it does not negate the infusion of purely American culture that we are all boiled in from birth. Now, I can hear you shaking your head that there is no “purely” American culture because we are such a mishmash. Well, I tell you what. You get yourself an ocean away, either one will do, and walk out into any city. Stop the first person you see and say, “Nice to meet you.” You will feel more American, more bare, and more other than you’ve ever experienced (unless you’re a poor minority, sorry, you can get that in any “fine” department store.)
Which brings me directly to ancestors. My friend’s were Scottish and he was so tied to that idea, to an ideal of Scottishness, that it affected his entire being. I certainly hope someone gets a piper in to his funeral. He deserves a piper. A good one. And a tall glass, no ice, of excellent whiskey.
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