No Comparison
My head is still spinning from the diverse displays of patriotism and cultural pride demonstrated this July in England. It’s just that in the states there really isn’t a comparison for any of these events.
Saving Signets
Summer with all its heady abundance of life is here! The sun is bright, the breeze is gentle and the Great River Ouse is teeming with couples parading newborns up and down its lush green banks. Little signets, ducklings and tiny coots serenely learn to navigate the tranquil river under the supervision of their parents.
Survival is slim even in the best circumstances, but parents’ misjudgment of the river’s current does not improve the chances. This morning a swan couple, who live upstream with seven signets, ventured too close to the weir’s treacherous edge. Two hapless signets were washed over the side. Their sudden plummet into the river below did no immediate harm, except they were now separated from the safety of their parents with zero chance of surviving on their own.
My First Year in England
A year ago I rolled down the ramp of the Stena Line Ferry with a trolley stacked with luggage topped precariously by my guinea pig Lucy to my new home in rural England. I am urban to the core and I could not picture myself living surrounded by fields of sheep, baaaa. Of course, I have flirted with the idea of living in the country while driving through picturesque back roads in the States. But the cold splash of reality in my face would abruptly end it with the realization that I would be utterly dependent on a car for transportation, something that is quite abhorrent to a city girl like me. I was relieved to discover that a charming village in Cambridgeshire is nowhere near the isolated existence of rural America or even the car-centric sprawl of our suburbs.
Christmas Goose
Excerpt from an email sent home on 27 December 2009.
To begin there are three butchers at Andersons—The elder, the son and young Lee who lives with the Andersons. They operate a small local butcher shop providing the community with heavenly meat and sausages. They have spoiled me rotten and I would not dream of buying my meat from anyone else.
How Luton Deals with Snow
Excerpt from an email sent home on 18 December 2009.
Nary a shovel, nor salt, nor sand, nor broom was used at Luton today for why bother, it will melt.
Travelers pushing strollers, wheel chairs or hobbling on crutches slopped through the mess.
Cars were abandoned on roads not touched as passengers trudged on with suitcases through the slush.
Say What?
Excerpt from an email sent home on 22 June 2009.
I honestly thought I shared the same language as the English. That was until today when I visited my local post office to purchase a stamp to mail a letter. I walked to a local convenience store that conveniently has a post office inside along with a dry cleaner, lottery and news stand.
What follows is the exchange between myself and the lady behind the post office counter.
by reader
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