We are having pulled pork for lunch. It's in the slow cooker as I write, and just about beginning to release lovely aromatic fumes into the kitchen.
Here's the thing, though. I'm quite annoyed with pulled pork. When we were in the US, it was a staple, and always popular. What a lovely way to eat pork, I invariably thought. None of that sawing away at a slice of grey meat that's a little bit tough, under some gravy that might or might not taste of anything nice. So I had plans. Plans. Not for world domination, or anything like that, but for pulled pork in the UK. I was going to magic up that little number when I did a Sunday lunch for visitors, or was catering for a number of hungry teenagers. "Pulled pork," I was going to say. "It's an American thing."
But waah. Pulled pork preceded me across the Atlantic. Pigs might fly, and they obviously did. I got back to a nation already in love with pulled pork. I am so yesterday already. Even owning and using a slow cooker isn't as raunchily "ranch" as I'd thought.
The same thing happened with onesies, though my plans for those were not to introduce them and enjoy their novelty. No. I was all ready to share with my British friends a good laugh, as I described to their wonderingly unbelieving faces these ridiculous baby-gros that were being marketed to grown-ups in the US. I was looking forward to many a smug "they don't really buy them, and wear them, surely" moment, full of cultural superiority, and what do I find? The onesie had done a reverse Christopher Columbus and discovered Britain while I was away. Gaah.
What about you, fellow expats? Have there been new things that you've come across on your travels, only to find them already back in Blighty?
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Sunday, September 28, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
How technology has eased the path
In this information-ready era, there are so many things that our children will never have to face, that we did.
- Mum not having a clue how to do a French braid. There's Youtube. And now she's watched the French braid video, you can browse together the many other complicated braiding possibilities. Many!
- Going to the public library to get a book out on a topic for a project at school, only to find that there were two relevant books, and guess what? They've both been taken out by other children. Because there were two books and thirty children.
- Not knowing what a rude word means. Not finding it in the dictionary. Being too embarrassed to ask your Mum or a friend. That's what Google is for. It might not even be a rude word. Just a super-cool one. Urban Dictionary will tell you.
- Not getting a joke. Why is everyone laughing, and you didn't understand it? Again, Google.
- Sitting in a cafe on your own. Whether it was filling in time, or waiting for a late friend, there used to be an exquisite awkwardness about being on your own in a cafe. Do you nip out and buy a newspaper to read? Or do you carry a paperback in your handbag, for just such moments as this? Do you fiddle endlessly with your coffee? Do you go to the loo - again - to fill in a few minutes? This next generation will never have to worry. They have their phones.
- The indecision as to whether to buy a Filofax or not. Filofaxes polarised us. They were either the ultimate cool, showing that you had lots of friends - in fact, so many of them that you had to spend serious money on a leather-bound book to keep all their details in. Or they were just too cliche for words, and you stuck with your old address book, which had a picture of Salisbury Cathedral on the front. There was no half-measure. Either you were a Filofax person, or you weren't. But whichever you were, you were expected to show great sympathy when you heard the story of someone's friend or sister who had lost their Filofax, or had it stolen. All those friends' details stored carefully between the leather covers, gone! I suppose that is one thing that has been carried forward into the technological era, and intensified. The lost phone. That must be much worse than the lost Filofax.
- Endless conversations devoted to giving directions. How did we manage before mobile phones?
- The need to be punctual. If you couldn't contact the person you were meeting, then being 5 or maybe 10 minutes late was ok, but you wouldn't expect them to be happy for longer than that (see 5 above). No mobile phones meant no potential for last-minute apologies, or re-arranging of venue to fit in with your inefficient travel plans. Maybe this one is a loss rather than a gain of modern life.
Can you think of any others?
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Friday, September 19, 2014
So Husband was right
Husband was right. The No vote prevailed. He had guessed it would be 47% vs 55%. I, on the other hand, was wrong, and quite wrong. For all the closeness of the polls predictions, I had guessed the Yes vote would have a decisive yes, and put a figure of 65% vs 35% on it.
I'm relieved, but, because I am a contrary soul with something of a natural inclination to rebel (it's genetic), I feel a kind of weird disappointment too. I voted No, staunchly and whole-heartedly. But I'd got to the point where I really believed Yes was going to win, and so I'd prepared myself. So now, though I'm pleased to stay Better Together, and though I rejoice at the political change that this referendum has sparked, I also can't help feeling like I might feel if I was dressed up in warm clothes and wellies, and trudging out in the rain to a firework display, that's cancelled at the last minute because of the bad weather. I know. I'm a contrary soul.
I was trying to explain to Husband, and I likened it to this. For the last two and a half years or more of living in America, we were trying to get back. Trying hard. Husband would occasionally get a job interview, and we'd think "surely this is it!" I mean, who pays an air fare for a candidate unless they're pretty serious? (We're talking church or academia, not banking or big corporations, by the way, just so you see the context.) And then he wouldn't get the job (loyally, I feel at this point that I need to point out that he's not just rubbish at interviews, which is what you, dear reader, might conclude). Anyway, on one occasion in particular, after a whole string of disappointments, he was interviewed, and, though I deeply wanted to return to the UK, I was not that keen on the opportunity. It was in a city I felt no connection to at all, in a part of the UK that I felt no connection to. I'd googled local house prices and schools, and it just looked... meh. And at that point, I was really enjoying life where we were. I knew we would say yes, and, though the job seemed a bit meh too, I was gearing up to be thrilled for Husband, and I couldn't forget that deep down, I should be glad to be returning home. It had felt like a very long, long two plus years at that point. I really, really didn't like the look of the other side of the divide, but it was, at least, on the other side, and I knew that I would have to find the energy to jump over, and carry the family with me. So when he didn't get that job, I was both mighty relieved (secretly, not able to tell even him), but also disappointed. And I learnt that it's possible, ok, and frankly quite normal, to feel conflicting emotions at the same time. There isn't a "right" emotion to feel. It's not as if you have to choose which one is the proper one, or that one is deeper than the other. You acknowledge them both, as your friends, and let time filter them out.
So, this morning, though happy and relieved, I am all a-jangle. Churned up. I want to acknowledge the pain of the Yes campaign, individuals who have passionately and self-sacrificially worked towards the other outcome, though I'm glad they didn't prevail. But heck, I admire them, and I would have given an independent Scotland a good go. Passion is infectious.
I am also very irritated by the BBC coverage, and the way the story has been hijacked. It's like Scotland has been allowed its moment, and now, guess what? It's all about England again. It's happened with indecent haste. Have you learned nothing, you down South? David Cameron has talked of the "so-called West Lothian question". Well, David, actually, it was and is the West Lothian question, not "so-called" at all. You've just hijacked it, and called it the English question, and now, the BBC seems very determined to talk about England again.
I guess both sides need to shift their attitudes, and that is hard to do. For every one Scot who bears a grudge and spits the word "Westminster" as if it were some axis of English evil, there is a clutch of people in the south of England who think of Scotland as a bolt-on extra, somewhere beyond even Northumbria, nice for walking holidays and romantic scenes in films. There's definitely bridge-building to be done on both sides.
Hurrah for democracy, though. That these questions can be raised, and everyone have a voice. Hurrah that the turn-out was so high. Hurrah that the result was relatively even throughout Scotland, so that the result looks like a wiggling worm round the dividing line. Hurrah that the result was decisive enough, and not 49% vs 51%. But let's take heed. 45% vs 55% is hardly a landslide. The Union is secured, but needs to work harder.
This is what I really feel. I LOVE living in Scotland. I was thrilled to return here from America (we didn't think we probably would). I love having the best of all worlds. I love living near enough the hills that, in a day, we can go and bag a Munro. I love knowing what that even means. I love living in a capital city that thinks parking is a problem, because it doesn't know what living in London is like. I love the sea, and that I can be walking the dog on the dunes, 40 minutes after leaving the city centre. I love the Edinburgh Festival. I loved going to the Commonwealth Games. I love the long light days of summer. I bloody love The Proclaimers. I even love bagpipes (kind of). I love being the only English person at my work, and that being ok (though it's felt a little uncomfortable of late). And now, I love that my children will have the choice, to pursue an English life, or a Scottish one. I love that.
.
I'm relieved, but, because I am a contrary soul with something of a natural inclination to rebel (it's genetic), I feel a kind of weird disappointment too. I voted No, staunchly and whole-heartedly. But I'd got to the point where I really believed Yes was going to win, and so I'd prepared myself. So now, though I'm pleased to stay Better Together, and though I rejoice at the political change that this referendum has sparked, I also can't help feeling like I might feel if I was dressed up in warm clothes and wellies, and trudging out in the rain to a firework display, that's cancelled at the last minute because of the bad weather. I know. I'm a contrary soul.
I was trying to explain to Husband, and I likened it to this. For the last two and a half years or more of living in America, we were trying to get back. Trying hard. Husband would occasionally get a job interview, and we'd think "surely this is it!" I mean, who pays an air fare for a candidate unless they're pretty serious? (We're talking church or academia, not banking or big corporations, by the way, just so you see the context.) And then he wouldn't get the job (loyally, I feel at this point that I need to point out that he's not just rubbish at interviews, which is what you, dear reader, might conclude). Anyway, on one occasion in particular, after a whole string of disappointments, he was interviewed, and, though I deeply wanted to return to the UK, I was not that keen on the opportunity. It was in a city I felt no connection to at all, in a part of the UK that I felt no connection to. I'd googled local house prices and schools, and it just looked... meh. And at that point, I was really enjoying life where we were. I knew we would say yes, and, though the job seemed a bit meh too, I was gearing up to be thrilled for Husband, and I couldn't forget that deep down, I should be glad to be returning home. It had felt like a very long, long two plus years at that point. I really, really didn't like the look of the other side of the divide, but it was, at least, on the other side, and I knew that I would have to find the energy to jump over, and carry the family with me. So when he didn't get that job, I was both mighty relieved (secretly, not able to tell even him), but also disappointed. And I learnt that it's possible, ok, and frankly quite normal, to feel conflicting emotions at the same time. There isn't a "right" emotion to feel. It's not as if you have to choose which one is the proper one, or that one is deeper than the other. You acknowledge them both, as your friends, and let time filter them out.
So, this morning, though happy and relieved, I am all a-jangle. Churned up. I want to acknowledge the pain of the Yes campaign, individuals who have passionately and self-sacrificially worked towards the other outcome, though I'm glad they didn't prevail. But heck, I admire them, and I would have given an independent Scotland a good go. Passion is infectious.
I am also very irritated by the BBC coverage, and the way the story has been hijacked. It's like Scotland has been allowed its moment, and now, guess what? It's all about England again. It's happened with indecent haste. Have you learned nothing, you down South? David Cameron has talked of the "so-called West Lothian question". Well, David, actually, it was and is the West Lothian question, not "so-called" at all. You've just hijacked it, and called it the English question, and now, the BBC seems very determined to talk about England again.
I guess both sides need to shift their attitudes, and that is hard to do. For every one Scot who bears a grudge and spits the word "Westminster" as if it were some axis of English evil, there is a clutch of people in the south of England who think of Scotland as a bolt-on extra, somewhere beyond even Northumbria, nice for walking holidays and romantic scenes in films. There's definitely bridge-building to be done on both sides.
Hurrah for democracy, though. That these questions can be raised, and everyone have a voice. Hurrah that the turn-out was so high. Hurrah that the result was relatively even throughout Scotland, so that the result looks like a wiggling worm round the dividing line. Hurrah that the result was decisive enough, and not 49% vs 51%. But let's take heed. 45% vs 55% is hardly a landslide. The Union is secured, but needs to work harder.
This is what I really feel. I LOVE living in Scotland. I was thrilled to return here from America (we didn't think we probably would). I love having the best of all worlds. I love living near enough the hills that, in a day, we can go and bag a Munro. I love knowing what that even means. I love living in a capital city that thinks parking is a problem, because it doesn't know what living in London is like. I love the sea, and that I can be walking the dog on the dunes, 40 minutes after leaving the city centre. I love the Edinburgh Festival. I loved going to the Commonwealth Games. I love the long light days of summer. I bloody love The Proclaimers. I even love bagpipes (kind of). I love being the only English person at my work, and that being ok (though it's felt a little uncomfortable of late). And now, I love that my children will have the choice, to pursue an English life, or a Scottish one. I love that.
.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
A bet
Husband and I have made a bet. Well, not so much a bet, as a guess. He thinks it will be a No vote. I think it will be a Yes. We put percentages on it, but I don't want to say them out loud. Not that it could possibly influence the result, but somehow, it doesn't feel quite right. I'll tell you after the event.
I'm getting up early to vote before taking 10-yo to school, and going to work. No reason to do so, because I could easily vote in the evening. It's just that I know I won't be able to settle to anything all day, until I've voted, so I might as well sacrifice a half-hour in the morning, rather than the whole day.
I hope we stay together, "Better Together", but I think I've also made my peace with the idea that this northern ship will be sailing away on its own, if the Yes vote prevails. I'm not starry-eyed about what that will look like: economic recession, parties fighting, politicians not delivering what they've promised. Why would the politics of Edinburgh be any different to the politics of Westminster, when all is said and done? But I have, in odd minutes, felt myself sprinkled by the occasional splash from the wave of optimism - ill-founded though I believe it to be. Whatever the Yes/No outcome, isn't it time for change of some kind? You'd be a hard person, indeed, if you remained unaffected by the mood of the moment.
If Scotland becomes independent, I will seek to make it a success - for my children and grandchildren. Two of my children have never lived in England, and maybe they never will. Their children may never hold a British passport. I'm grateful for the time I lived in America, because it did prise me away from some deep sense that I never even knew I had, that being English is somehow best. I know I can be at home north or south of whatever kind of border tomorrow's vote forges between the two nations.
.
I'm getting up early to vote before taking 10-yo to school, and going to work. No reason to do so, because I could easily vote in the evening. It's just that I know I won't be able to settle to anything all day, until I've voted, so I might as well sacrifice a half-hour in the morning, rather than the whole day.
I hope we stay together, "Better Together", but I think I've also made my peace with the idea that this northern ship will be sailing away on its own, if the Yes vote prevails. I'm not starry-eyed about what that will look like: economic recession, parties fighting, politicians not delivering what they've promised. Why would the politics of Edinburgh be any different to the politics of Westminster, when all is said and done? But I have, in odd minutes, felt myself sprinkled by the occasional splash from the wave of optimism - ill-founded though I believe it to be. Whatever the Yes/No outcome, isn't it time for change of some kind? You'd be a hard person, indeed, if you remained unaffected by the mood of the moment.
If Scotland becomes independent, I will seek to make it a success - for my children and grandchildren. Two of my children have never lived in England, and maybe they never will. Their children may never hold a British passport. I'm grateful for the time I lived in America, because it did prise me away from some deep sense that I never even knew I had, that being English is somehow best. I know I can be at home north or south of whatever kind of border tomorrow's vote forges between the two nations.
.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Please, No
I am English. I live in Scotland. I have one child who was born in England, and two who were born in Scotland. There are getting on for half a million English people living in Scotland - a little under 10% of the population, if my maths is right. There are about 800,000 Scots living in England (figures from the BBC). The history of our countries has been united for over 300 years. It took a long time to get there, and we all know that it wasn't a happy journey. So let's not go back. We could unpick in a few years what it took centuries of bloodshed to forge. We have so much to offer each other. There is so very much to lose, and I can't see much to gain.
It's not hard to imagine a situation in years to come, when my children leave education, in which the oldest can get a job in England if he wants to, but the other two have to apply for a visa to work south of the border. Unless Scotland joins the EU, that is a very real proposition. I see independence as a narrowing of opportunities. I don't want to be alarmist, but if the 20th century taught us anything, it surely taught us that political stability is fragile. More fragile than it seems. Surely stable union as neighbours is better than unstable separation? A narrowing of opportunities might be the least of our worries.
I've listened to Radio Scotland phone-ins on the way to work over the past few months. Several times I've had to turn them off, irritated by yet another person talking of how they want "freedom for ma grandchildren, freedom that I've never had in ma lifetime". What is this "freedom" that the Scots feel they don't have? Up here, it seems to me we have double democracy. We're represented in Westminster, and at Holyrood. What other part of Britain has that?
I am feeling agitated. I think we all are, up here. This has moved from being a subject of interesting intellectual debate to being a walk along a painful knife edge. I just want it to be over. I want to know which way it's going. I'm nervous because whichever way it does go, it's going to be a close result, and that means that there will be a large number of people who don't get what they want, and who will be disappointed, frustrated, angry.
Please vote No. We really are Better Together. Or if you do vote Yes, do it because you are excited by the prospect of building a new independent country. Do it because you have a positive vision for what Scotland could be. Don't do it because you're carrying on your shoulders a 300 year old grievance. How many generations have to pass before a nation can move on from a past?
I do have a suggestion. Too late now - we should have done it years ago. Did you know that there's a verse in the National Anthem that goes like this:
Lord, grant that Marshal Wade, May by thy mighty aid, Victory bring.
I know. Who's ever sung that? Who even knew that there exist several verses of the National Anthem? Well, some of the Scots do, and they think it reveals what the English feel about the Scots. So please, could we not get this verse formally struck out of the National Anthem, in a symbolic gesture like the raising of the Saltire above Downing Street? And then, in return, could Scottish rugby supporters please not sing about sending proud Edward's army home "tae think again". That stray verse of the National Anthem dates back to the 1700s (thank you Wikipedia), and English Edward's army was defeated in 1314. 1314! It's time we all moved on, people.
It's not hard to imagine a situation in years to come, when my children leave education, in which the oldest can get a job in England if he wants to, but the other two have to apply for a visa to work south of the border. Unless Scotland joins the EU, that is a very real proposition. I see independence as a narrowing of opportunities. I don't want to be alarmist, but if the 20th century taught us anything, it surely taught us that political stability is fragile. More fragile than it seems. Surely stable union as neighbours is better than unstable separation? A narrowing of opportunities might be the least of our worries.
I've listened to Radio Scotland phone-ins on the way to work over the past few months. Several times I've had to turn them off, irritated by yet another person talking of how they want "freedom for ma grandchildren, freedom that I've never had in ma lifetime". What is this "freedom" that the Scots feel they don't have? Up here, it seems to me we have double democracy. We're represented in Westminster, and at Holyrood. What other part of Britain has that?
I am feeling agitated. I think we all are, up here. This has moved from being a subject of interesting intellectual debate to being a walk along a painful knife edge. I just want it to be over. I want to know which way it's going. I'm nervous because whichever way it does go, it's going to be a close result, and that means that there will be a large number of people who don't get what they want, and who will be disappointed, frustrated, angry.
Please vote No. We really are Better Together. Or if you do vote Yes, do it because you are excited by the prospect of building a new independent country. Do it because you have a positive vision for what Scotland could be. Don't do it because you're carrying on your shoulders a 300 year old grievance. How many generations have to pass before a nation can move on from a past?
I do have a suggestion. Too late now - we should have done it years ago. Did you know that there's a verse in the National Anthem that goes like this:
Lord, grant that Marshal Wade, May by thy mighty aid, Victory bring.
May he sedition hush, And like a torrent rush, Rebellious Scots to crush.
God save The King.
I know. Who's ever sung that? Who even knew that there exist several verses of the National Anthem? Well, some of the Scots do, and they think it reveals what the English feel about the Scots. So please, could we not get this verse formally struck out of the National Anthem, in a symbolic gesture like the raising of the Saltire above Downing Street? And then, in return, could Scottish rugby supporters please not sing about sending proud Edward's army home "tae think again". That stray verse of the National Anthem dates back to the 1700s (thank you Wikipedia), and English Edward's army was defeated in 1314. 1314! It's time we all moved on, people.
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