Some thing you may not know......

Moving to the UK from Southern California was a bit of a culture shock.  I knew it would be different, but never realized how different it would actually be.  Part of the culture shock was probably due to the fact that I married a man in the Royal Air Force and, never before having ANY experience with military life, was subjected to a realm of existence beyond anything I knew.  Even without military life thrown into the batter here are some things that you may or may not know about (my) life in Britain.

1. The post office does EVERYTHING - aside from delivering your mail half the time.  I just love spending my lunchtime standing in line for what seems like an eternity waiting for people to:

• Exchange money for their travels
• Pay their Gas and Electricity bills
• Cash their pension checks
• Get their car taxed and registered
• Have their nails done (okay I'm going a bit far now)

2. Many/Most retail stores shut at 5 pm.  Except on Thursday.  Apparently it is shopping day for all of Britain and stores may stay open until 7 or even 8.  Many stores do not open on Sunday at all.

3.  Grocery stores only seem to re-stock once a week.  I am guessing that it is on a Monday, cause if you want to go to the store on a Sunday to buy food - they will most likely be out of what you need.  Also grocery stores shut at 4 pm on Sunday.  Even more odd - the stores open at 10 am on a Sunday, but you cannot pay for anything until 11 am.  That one was sorely unappreciated one Sunday morning when we realized that baby Maddie was out of diapers....and had the trots....and did I mention no diapers?!  Drove to the store and arrived at 9:55.  Waited the 5 agonizing minutes for the store to open.  Ran in to buy said diapers and go to the checkout at 10:05.  Was told I would have to wait 55 minutes before purchase.  One of the few times in my life that I actually almost rationalized shoplifting. Still trying to work the Sunday opening hours over here.

4. Until very recently pubs shut at 11 o'clock - including weekends.  I always found this astounding since their is such a long standing tradition of pub-going over here, but I guess everyone is too pissed (that is drunk to my American friends) to carry on any later.

5. More people over here follow more soap operas than politics.  That well may be true for Americans as well, but not where I come from.  I do not watch soaps and so am blocked from many 'water cooler' conversations revolving around one of the 32 soaps that permeate the airwaves.

6. Many households still do a Sunday roast.  This is basically a full Thanksgiving dinner every Sunday at about 2 o'clock.  If you don't have one you may be considered unsavory and neighbors may cross the street to avoid you.

7.  Many women I know over here don't drive.  I would say at least 50%.  That is not an exact figure, and again my figures are only a reflection of my small pocket of life.   I could not live without a car.  I got my license the week of my 16th birthday and have not looked back since.  I am not going to tell you how many years I have been driving - if you know me you can do the math.  Maybe they are put off by the tests.  I had to re-take a theory and a practical test to get licensed and I flunked both of them the first time around.  The theory questions I actually got 100% on and finished 30 questions in under 3 minutes.  The 'let us play a video game of things you could possible hit' simulator was not so good.  Apparently I pressed the mouse button too quickly.  So spotting things well in advance is not so good over here.  After slowing down my response time to what seemed like a near-death experience - I passed!  I flunked my practical test because while reversing around a corner - more on that one later.  Thankfully I finally got myself passed - life here would suck without wheels!

8.  Grocery stores do not pack your bags for you.  And the check out help gets very cranky if you don't pack fast enough to keep them moving.  This usually means many squashed things in the very flimsy plastic bags (I will NEVER remember to bring my own) that will eventually break on the way to the car, in the rain, while your child is screaming for a cookie.

These are just a few things - and believe me - there are many, many, many more to come!

An American in Panto

In America, men who walk around dressed in ladies things are usually drag queens, halloween revelers or frat boys during Hell Week. In England men dressed in ladies things are usually actors.  This normally occurs around Christmas and these actors would most likely be the starring Dame in their local Panto.  

Panto is short for Pantomime - a traditional Christmas play which is about as far from the Nativity as one could imagine.  These plays normally involve song, dance, comedy, slapstick, audience participation and mild to strong sexual innuendo depending on the audience and how drunk the actors are on the final night. The plots are often loosely based on traditional children's stories. Panto is steeped in a number of traditions and superstitions - most of which have remained over the years:

• The leading male character is called the Principal Boy and is almost always played by a woman usually dressed in short, tight fitting skirts accompanied by knee-high leather boots and stockings. 

• The pantomime dame is usually played by a man - the bigger the better in my opinion.  They get the best costumes, at least 4 wigs changes, fake knockers that would put Dolly to shame AND they get to wear more makeup than KISS.

• There is plenty of audience participation - which can be a bit daunting if you have never been on stage with people yelling things at you.   The best bit about it (as I found out) is that the cast can yell back!  Also, the audience is usually forced to stand up and sing a really awful song or two while cast members throw sweets to the kids.  Although these days with health and safety laws the candy can't be flung anymore - boo to that!

• Depending on whether or not the character is a 'goodie' or a  'baddie' they will always enter and exit on the right side of the stage 'goodie' or the left 'baddie'.  An astute (and awake) audience will spot a naive director if a mistake is made.

• In pantomime the last lines spoken in the finale; (traditionally in rhyming couplets) should never be spoken in rehearsal as this is considered very bad luck. Instead the actor will normally replace the lines in rehearsals by saying 'rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb'.  The actual lines are uttered for the first time on the opening night (if the actor can remember what they are).  There has been more than one occasion on opening night when the beads of sweat break out on the actor's forehead as he/she desperately tries to NOT say 'rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb'.  I really hope I am over here long enough to have that happen.  Because it would be funny.....and some of us would do anything for a laugh.

• The last actors to appear on stage in  finale are traditionally the Principal Boy and Girl, who have usually gotten married at the end of the show. 

• Whistling in a dressing room is a bad omen and if you care caught doing this you have to leave the room, turn around three times, knock and re-enter, usually uttering a curse.  Okay, in fairness, I have never heard of this but it does sound like something the British would invoke.

The first time I was asked to audition for a pantomime I actually thought they meant miming - and I was NOT interested.  The director gently explained what it actually was (whilst wiping away the stream of tears that were the product of laughing so hard she cried).  I thought - okay this sounds like fun  - I'm in.  When I later found out that she wanted me to play one of the lead roles I was over the moon.  When I even later found out that the lead role she wanted me to play was King Arthur I was back under the moon (I did not want to dress up like a man).  When - after several glasses of wine - the director told me I could wear fishnets and the stripper boots I had acquired in Las Vegas, I was intrigued.  When I found out that the only reason I was being given the part was because I was the only person who could fit into the costume I didn't care - I was finally going to get an opportunity to wear my boots!!!  

And so began several years of playing principal boy on stage.  Luckily some other girls finally showed up on the scene who could also fit the costumes and I could say good-bye to playing a man on stage.  I am sad, however, that I now do not have a good reason to wear fishnets and stripper boots.  Perhaps Guy Fawkes Night could use a new traditional garb?

British Celebrations - Take 1

So Matt is upset because this is the first year since the beginning of time (his words), that he has (in his opinion) celebrated more American holidays than British ones, the most recent being Halloween.  I have to digress a minute here and reiterate AGAIN (to my lovely UK brethren) that Halloween is NOT an American holiday.  It is an amalgamation of many beliefs dating back to Roman times, so stop bitching to me about how Americans have taught the whole wide world how to beg for candy and smash things in the streets like hooligans (I'm done now).  I have gotten a lot of grief this year over the Americanization of England and how Halloween has taken over more traditional celebrations as Guy Fawkes Night.  This brings me back to my husband and the fact that so far this year we have:

1.Blown things up on the 4th of July,
2.gone begging for candy door to door but.......
3.didn't do diddly squat to pay homage to poor old Guy Fawkes.

When I moved to England I had never heard of Guy Fawkes, nor knew of any sort of celebration in his honor.  I would like to take the next 20 minutes of my life (with my husband as my historical sherpa) to enlighten you and perhaps bring you a better understanding to the CRAZINESS that is the foundation of many English traditions including an evening dedicated to Mr. Fawkes.

Here goes:

Once upon a time (I'm pretty sure it was 1649) James I was king of England and he was either Catholic or Protestant (don't know which).  Guy Fawkes didn't like James I because he was of the opposing religion (as was his gang).  So the big group of anti-Jamesters planted a shit load (Matt's words) of explosives under the Houses of Parliment.   The scheme was rumbled by James' gang and Guy Fawkes was burned at the stake.

350 year on, The English no longer plant explosive things under Parliment, but they DO build massive bonfires in public places to mark the occasion and even chuck effigies of Guy Fawkes onto said flames.   They also let off fire works as a re-enactment of what could have been and give sparklers to the kids.

All in all Guy Fawkes night is the British version of Independence Day, but the effigy stuff - taking it to the extreme.  I have just been told that there is no food associated with said night.  Typical.  This may need to be changed if I continue to live here.  I might recommend Mexican (it can be explosive).

Thanks for the Giving...

Most Americans I know celebrate Thanksgiving - some with more excitement than others.  Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays because:

1.  It falls around my birthday and up until the age of about 8 I really did think that the huge family get-togethers, turkey and pumpkin pie were all about me.  Friends that know me also know that this spirit of 'It's all about me' is one that I still carry with me to this day.

2.  It is a good warmup for Christmas.

3.  Many times Thanksgiving is a day where we are forced into close and prolonged contact with people (family) that we only see once of year, many of whom we either don't know very well or don't particularly like.  This is a great recipe for brewing socially awkward situations - which I LOVE!

4.  Up until my move to England, Thanksgiving meant a Friday morning flight to Hawaii to see my parents and have fun.

Since moving to England I have always tried to continue the great American tradition of Thanksgiving by opening up our home to British friends who have had the misfortune of never experiencing this delightful day.   Every year it inevitably happens that I get a panicked phone call the night before the big event, by a guest who is unsure of what gift to bring and what is going to occur.  When I tell them that no gift is necessary, they seem at first relieved and then perplexed.

"What is Thanksgiving?"  
To which I always reply - "it is eating - ALOT."  
"Is that IT?"  
"Well, there is also some football, some parade watching, some drinking and the potential of a verbal altercation thrown in"
"But we don't have American football here..."
"Nope!"
"Or a parade on TV....."
"That's Right!"
"So that would just leave......"
"Your family, my family, enough liquor to sedate a horse, some turkey and possibly a catfight!"
"You Americans are sooooo funny!"
"There is nothing funny about it - this is serious business, be here at 1 o'clock or face death."


This year we are inviting our neighbors who we knew in Northern Ireland.  I am waiting for the phone call as we speak!

Try This on for Size

So I have a gym - and on a regular basis am faced with the horrified gasps of women as they stand on a scale and face their worst fears.  Each time I see the expression on their faces and hear the stream of words sputter out "wait, that can't be right, are you sure, really could you check again", I am reminded of my first time clothes shopping in England.  I had moved over in January, from San Diego and the temperature difference was, how can I put this, EXTREME.  I didn't have very weather appropriate clothes, like socks, closed toe shoes and to be honest many pairs of trousers.  I had jeans, but not much else so on a weekend meeting my husband's best friends for the first time, Matt suggested that Nerys take me out clothes shopping.  So off we went to the mall, where Nerys introduced me to a store called New Look.

Luckily I found lots of clothes that I liked and started grabbing things in my size which at the time was an American size 8.  I saw the look on Nerys' face as I was grabbing things and I read the look as "hmmmm interesting choice".  We went into our separate fitting rooms and as I went in Nerys kindly said "the sales girl can get you more sizes if those don't fit".  To which I thought "wait - are you saying these won't fit me?"  I was a bit miffed, to say the least, but set about trying on the first pair of pants.  Which fit.......up to my knees......then wouldn't budge......WTF?!?!?!  In a panic I started muttered "waitthiscantberighttheirhastobeamistakeperhapsificheckthelabeligrabbedthewrongsize"  Label checked - size 8, gasp, maybe strange cut.  Tried on the next, and the next, and the next.  Decided to self that English food must be avoided because made me a porker in the span of a month.  Heard Nerys knocking on door to fitting room.  I came out with sheepish look on my face and explained that they didn't fit.  Nerys (who was a good size smaller than me) said "I thought they looked a bit small - I wear a size 10 - I think their is a size difference of 2 - try a size 10 or 12. "  At that point in my life I had always been lucky enough to avoid double digit clothes and I would be damned if I was going to start now - size difference or not.  I almost walked out empty handed, but luckily for me Nerys had the sense of mind to convince me that size 10 in England = notafatass.  I bought a pair of pants, which I now (7 years on) wish upon a star will fit me again one day!

Things I really miss - Part I

Like anyone moving to a foreign country, there are certain things that I miss so desperately that sometimes I cry (just a little to myself).  Oddly enough the things that I miss the most are not what I expected - like my friends and my family.  Okay well I do really miss them to, but at least I can call, facebook and skype them and get a small if not tangible dose of them.  No, the things I miss the most are small everyday things that I took for granted.


Foody things like:  hazelnut coffee, tortillas, hot sauce, sushi, Libby's canned pumpkin and Kraft Mac n' Cheese (just to name a few).

Shopping places like:  Whole Foods, Rite Aid (really any 24 hour store), Bath and Body Works

Random stuff like:  Victoria's Secret Underwear, Not having to wear a winter coat, Fahrenheit, top loading washing machines, EmergenC, The Southern California Freeway system. Now I know on this last one you might be asking yourself (is she CRAZY?)  Forgetting about LA for a minute, the freeway system that surrounds San Diego in my opinion is phenomenal!  You can get just about anywhere in 20 minutes or less.  That is amazing for such a large city.

Some of my saddest days are driving into Lincoln.  a city of about 90,000 people (maybe less, that could be with surrounding villages).  It sometimes takes me 45 to get across town (across town being about 3 miles).  The traffic here is nasty, because they have no freeways.  And yes I know that freeways are ugly, but so are nervous breakdowns!  I often get pangs of longing when I see a queue (that's a line to you) of 20 cars trying to get through a traffic light lasting 5 seconds, knowing that their problems would be solved by 6 lanes - IN EACH DIRECTION.

Note to self, get certified to get on planning board of Lincoln City.

Well Hellllllooooo.......

Okay, since I cannot have friends showing me up (you know who you are) I have decided to blog about my life as a crazy (really just misunderstood) American living in the UK. I truly thought that after 7 years the differences between our cultures would begin to blend or to at least not provide so many opportunities for jokes. How wrong could I have been?! I am now in the position to say if you can't beat it - flaunt it and so I sit today ready to unleash some funny stories from the recent past and hopefully of events to come (because trust me it just doesn't go away).

To start - a bit of the boring. I am 37, married to a Brit nicknamed Arse (age 36), with one daughter (age 3) and a dog (6?). My husband is in the RAF and we live in Bardney, England.  Bardney is a very small village in Lincolnshire, although the people in lincolnshire would probably argue that it is actually quite large for a village. I couldn't tell you how many people live here but can say that it boasts: 2 pubs, a SMALL grocery store, a butcher, a post office, a primary school and a newly added Indian Takeaway. It is also home to about 7,542 dogs who all use the village green as a toilet. We are about 15 miles (or a 4 hour drive) from the East Coast of England, the coast bordering the North Sea which means we have CRAZY weather here. As I write this I can 1)hear the wind ripping across the plains and 2) see that the wind has picked up our neighbors 14 foot trampoline which is now sitting atop their 6 foot fence. But I digress.....more on Bardney in another Blog.

I own a gym in Lincoln which is a City, not a town and NOT a village. I have about 400 members who I adore and who I think tolerate me pretty well. My daughter's name is Madison (after my hometown) and she is almost as crazy as I am. Her favorite things are playing on my iphone and hijacking the laptop. She looks so much like her father that sometimes I wonder if she is actually mine! My husband, Matt is an engineer and lately we hardly ever see each other (not by choice). Our dog Lucy is really like our oldest child. She is bossy, charming and a bed hog. Also recently her breath has started to stink.

I am orginally from Madison, WI, but lived in San Diego for what seems like eternity before meeting my husband and moving to England. I am fairly certain that he drugged me with something to get me to agree to the move. We lived in Norfork for 8 weeks before moving to Northern Ireland (that life deserves a blog all its own - don't get me started) for 3 years. Finally settling down in Lincolnshire, were we still get shuffled around like sheep!

All said my life is pretty fine - if only I could understand what the heck people are shouting at me all the time!