Raised on songs and stories
As the special commemorative edition of my having completed 1 month out of the 3 granted me, I bring you this painstakingly original audio/visual (read it out loud, you can do it) compilation of musings on the oddities that make British life so loveable. Picture this: someone who really sucks at math (read “me”) trying to roughly convert prices from dollars to pounds or pounds to euro, then finding the right coins (right Bryana, give the nice lady a 2p coin instead of 2 separate pennies, you stupid foreigner. Hurry!). We went to a Christian lecture on “Discipleship and Citizenship”, and at the end for Q and A time, all the British could talk about was their concerns over using the word “citizen” instead of “subject”: weren’t they still under Her Majesty and what would be the ramifications of employing the word that was the hallmark of the French Revolution. Apparently they weren’t aware a word can change its connotation over a long period of history. 18th century or 21st, people, let’s decide which one it is. But I’m glad that they haven’t entirely decided. They’re proud of their history and I’ll never, ever get tired of stepping off a busy modern street to find myself in a small, hushed park with a forgotten statue. Thanks to you, Russel Square and my hidden St Anne or Queen Anne or whoever that statue was of. I've forgotten. ;-P
Their juice has to be diluted at one part juice to 4 or more parts water. I didn't know this at first of course, so my face was pretty interesting after drinking it undiluted. FYI, Michelle is a woman in her 20s who works at the FMC and makes friends with each successive batch of FYHP and HIL kids. She’s amazing and fun and one of the best people ever. She came in and set us straight about that. The British who understand American pretty well know that when we ask for Band-Aids we really mean plasters. They don’t believe in screens in the windows, or more than one serviette (don’t say napkin!), or tissues, or in pouring your own tea and coffee. They’re distant and aloof from everyone but they cram their bodies against each other like no tomorrow to fit onto the tube during rush hour. They actually use their “green space” in the city, from mothers pushing prams of prattling English toddlers (ouch, the alliteration, I’m so sorry) to college guys (read “wootwoot!”) playing football (read “soccer”). The last step on the staircase closest to the dining room in the FMC is taller than the rest, so there’s a second of unexpected freefall that surprises me every time. And of course long Wednesday mornings of British MTV. I’m not gonna start singing “These are a few of my favorite things” (though I am corny enough to do that), but I just want to make sure I don’t forget. I love everything about life here; I don’t want it to fade to some nice dream I had once but can’t have again. I don’t want to forget the walk down twisty cobbled streets to the Globe. Past the Cornish pastry booth in the station to where there’s the blue and green lights embedded in the sidewalk under a bridge. Then that beautiful church, then past a replica of the Golden Hinde, through a tunnel where a busker is playing a violin, by the Clink museum where it’s so narrow you have to walk underneath a cage suspended in the air holding (supposedly) the clear remains of a human skeleton. Past the old pub, the trendy Greek restaurant, along the Thames the whole way to the Globe itself. It feels like home to me inside that “wooden O” (whose season ended this very day. Intense mourning!!!). I saw 3 of the 4 shows there; I really wish I’d made it to the 4th. Karla and I got a picture with one of the main actors in Measure for Measure (swoons) who had an amazing Scottish accent (swoons). I’ve decided that Scottish accents are better the Irish. I hope I don’t get flogged.
This afternoon the Quattro went to Camden Town Markets again. We like going back for the cheap stuff and for the foreign experience. Amid the Indian shawls, Goth gear, trendy sneakers, offensive tee-shirts, watches, Mexican food and pot is a fun place to be-in a group! Sorry guys, but I don’t think customs would be happy about me bringing you home some cannabis lollipops. After shopping we were getting supper (usually the FMC does that but on Sundays they serve dinner instead) and this guy was closing up shop selling donuts at 4/lb. So we try to get some and he’s ridiculously rude to us, ending by telling us to F*** OFF. So we did, with his donuts. He apparently didn’t care that we hadn’t paid him, he just wanted to get out of there and was chucking stuff on the ground anyways. When we got back we were showing Michelle (see above) what we had bought. We started to mention the donuts but *Victoria* (name changed to protect privacy), who had carried off the bag, was like, “No, no, don’t tell Michelle! It’s embarrassing, don’t tell her!” then leans over the desk and says in a deep voice “I STOLE them!!” Muahahaha. I was enjoying eating one of the donuts we had pinched when I discovered something dark in the center, like chocolate. I was millimeters from sinking my teeth into it when Michelle says “It’s probably a dead mouse.” I immediately recoiled with such a look of horror that everyone was laughing. It of course was some delicious chocolate, but man did that wet mouse seem a likely possibility. Gross! And that was today’s adventure. I've been so dehydrated the past few days; it just snuck up on me. I always want to be drinking (juice, people!), which is the opposite of normal with me. Gahhh. Tomorrow is schoolwork all day and then I hope LE MIS at night!!!!!!!!!!!! LE MIS!!!!!! AHHH!!!!!!!!!!! Oh the glory invoked, oh the anticipation awoken. *needs heroic theme music to exit to*….……….When all else fails, “Exit, chased by a bear.”
~~~
The amazing Karla on bodily functions:
“I hate these stairs; they make me drool.”
(Hey Karla, hon, you speak in semi-colons)
“Don’t sneeze on me! You’re bi-polar.”
(If you can quote me saying “Leave me alone! I like being a man,” and that bit about always wanting to dance around elevators in my underwear, then I can quote you, too! This is war, and we both have plenty of ammunition. ();-P Like I said, we have way to much fun here. *giggles*
~~~
“And it seems to get much colder when you cry on your own shoulder, and you know the show must go on…so just throw on a sweater and go.” ~Relient K
Their juice has to be diluted at one part juice to 4 or more parts water. I didn't know this at first of course, so my face was pretty interesting after drinking it undiluted. FYI, Michelle is a woman in her 20s who works at the FMC and makes friends with each successive batch of FYHP and HIL kids. She’s amazing and fun and one of the best people ever. She came in and set us straight about that. The British who understand American pretty well know that when we ask for Band-Aids we really mean plasters. They don’t believe in screens in the windows, or more than one serviette (don’t say napkin!), or tissues, or in pouring your own tea and coffee. They’re distant and aloof from everyone but they cram their bodies against each other like no tomorrow to fit onto the tube during rush hour. They actually use their “green space” in the city, from mothers pushing prams of prattling English toddlers (ouch, the alliteration, I’m so sorry) to college guys (read “wootwoot!”) playing football (read “soccer”). The last step on the staircase closest to the dining room in the FMC is taller than the rest, so there’s a second of unexpected freefall that surprises me every time. And of course long Wednesday mornings of British MTV. I’m not gonna start singing “These are a few of my favorite things” (though I am corny enough to do that), but I just want to make sure I don’t forget. I love everything about life here; I don’t want it to fade to some nice dream I had once but can’t have again. I don’t want to forget the walk down twisty cobbled streets to the Globe. Past the Cornish pastry booth in the station to where there’s the blue and green lights embedded in the sidewalk under a bridge. Then that beautiful church, then past a replica of the Golden Hinde, through a tunnel where a busker is playing a violin, by the Clink museum where it’s so narrow you have to walk underneath a cage suspended in the air holding (supposedly) the clear remains of a human skeleton. Past the old pub, the trendy Greek restaurant, along the Thames the whole way to the Globe itself. It feels like home to me inside that “wooden O” (whose season ended this very day. Intense mourning!!!). I saw 3 of the 4 shows there; I really wish I’d made it to the 4th. Karla and I got a picture with one of the main actors in Measure for Measure (swoons) who had an amazing Scottish accent (swoons). I’ve decided that Scottish accents are better the Irish. I hope I don’t get flogged.
This afternoon the Quattro went to Camden Town Markets again. We like going back for the cheap stuff and for the foreign experience. Amid the Indian shawls, Goth gear, trendy sneakers, offensive tee-shirts, watches, Mexican food and pot is a fun place to be-in a group! Sorry guys, but I don’t think customs would be happy about me bringing you home some cannabis lollipops. After shopping we were getting supper (usually the FMC does that but on Sundays they serve dinner instead) and this guy was closing up shop selling donuts at 4/lb. So we try to get some and he’s ridiculously rude to us, ending by telling us to F*** OFF. So we did, with his donuts. He apparently didn’t care that we hadn’t paid him, he just wanted to get out of there and was chucking stuff on the ground anyways. When we got back we were showing Michelle (see above) what we had bought. We started to mention the donuts but *Victoria* (name changed to protect privacy), who had carried off the bag, was like, “No, no, don’t tell Michelle! It’s embarrassing, don’t tell her!” then leans over the desk and says in a deep voice “I STOLE them!!” Muahahaha. I was enjoying eating one of the donuts we had pinched when I discovered something dark in the center, like chocolate. I was millimeters from sinking my teeth into it when Michelle says “It’s probably a dead mouse.” I immediately recoiled with such a look of horror that everyone was laughing. It of course was some delicious chocolate, but man did that wet mouse seem a likely possibility. Gross! And that was today’s adventure. I've been so dehydrated the past few days; it just snuck up on me. I always want to be drinking (juice, people!), which is the opposite of normal with me. Gahhh. Tomorrow is schoolwork all day and then I hope LE MIS at night!!!!!!!!!!!! LE MIS!!!!!! AHHH!!!!!!!!!!! Oh the glory invoked, oh the anticipation awoken. *needs heroic theme music to exit to*….……….When all else fails, “Exit, chased by a bear.”
~~~
The amazing Karla on bodily functions:
“I hate these stairs; they make me drool.”
(Hey Karla, hon, you speak in semi-colons)
“Don’t sneeze on me! You’re bi-polar.”
(If you can quote me saying “Leave me alone! I like being a man,” and that bit about always wanting to dance around elevators in my underwear, then I can quote you, too! This is war, and we both have plenty of ammunition. ();-P Like I said, we have way to much fun here. *giggles*
~~~
“And it seems to get much colder when you cry on your own shoulder, and you know the show must go on…so just throw on a sweater and go.” ~Relient K