Annie Across the Pond

Worst New Year's Eve Ever

2012-02-05T09:37:00.000-08:00

I’ve had some pretty lame New Year’s Eves. The one on my mission was a non-event and I thought that was as bad as it could get. Every year I think New Year’s Eve will be great, and each year I’m disappointed. I don’t know why I keep expecting magic when every time I do, it turns out terribly. I think this one might just be the worst (and that’s counting the New Year’s Eve I spent puking and watching a Frank Sinatra documentary with my parents,) mostly because my expectations were so high. I was finally going to see the fireworks in London on New Year’s Eve and I was excited. I absolutely LOVE fireworks. And the fact that I was going to do it in London added to the excitement. The weather was mild, I was going with some of my very best friends, and it was London! What could possibly go wrong?

The plan was to meet up with some friends in Reading, drive to London to meet up with some other friends, and then take the Tube down to the river to participate in the festivities. I knew it would take us ages to get there and I wanted to be sure we gave ourselves long enough to get a good spot. The comedy of errors that ensued combined to ruin yet another New Year’s Eve, despite the fact that I met a super cute French guy and got kissed on the cheek twice.

First, we didn’t leave Reading on time, and then we witnessed an accident on the way into London and had to do our part to help the people involved. Once we finally got to London to meet up with the other group, it took us ages to get everyone mobilized and out the door. We finally did get on the Tube, but kept getting separated amongst the billions of others who thought London on New Year’s Eve would be a good idea. For some reason, we went to the south side of the river and then couldn’t get across the bridges. We walked down the promenade and then just stopped somewhere to wait for the fireworks. It was a fun atmosphere and everyone was in a party mood. At midnight, we heard the first sounds of exploding fireworks. I was looking toward where I thought they were coming from only to see nothing. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw the glitter of gold and turned to see that the fireworks were coming from behind the building to my left, completely obscured from view. The nearly eleven minute display yielded only a few fireworks high enough to clear the buildings. Unfortunately those few were obscured by the trees planted along the river. It was a complete and utter waste of time. I was gutted. All that effort for nothing. Maybe it would have helped if I’d been drunk like everyone else. I’ll try that next time.

Merry Christmas in Merry Old England

2012-02-05T04:06:00.000-08:00

I decided to try staying in England this year for Christmas. I had visions of Mickey’s Christmas Carol running through my head: people in period dress singing ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas,’ large roast duck, Christmas pudding, and the occasional supernatural visitor. It didn’t happen exactly as I’d expected, but I did get to try Christmas pudding for the first time. I learned that Christmas in England is not altogether different from what it is at home, other than the lack of snow and cold.

I was kindly invited to spend the holiday with my flatmate Robyn and her family. They were fantastic and made me feel so welcome and kept me very well fed and watered. They even taught me how to properly pull a Christmas cracker. I had taken crackers home my first Christmas here and we had pulled them individually. Come to find out, you’re really meant to pull one end while the person next to you pulls the other. Whoever ends up with the larger portion gets to keep the prize inside. My prize this year was completely useless. I can’t even remember what it was, but I did proudly wear my silver crown throughout dinner. Christmas dinner was delicious. It was turkey with all the trimmings. I’ll give the British credit; they know how to do a roast dinner. They have all sorts of veg, which they cover with gravy, plus roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings. There’s almost no point in even having the turkey.

I hired a car for the holiday so I could go visit friends and see some of England. Robyn doesn’t live far from Brighton, so I decided to drive down there one day. It was cool and felt very British. I walked along the pier, bought a stick of rock (hard candy with a word written through the middle), and ate fish and chips within sight and sound of the sea. It was a fun day, but I think I’ll need to go back when it’s not too cold to even think about sticking a toe in the water. I also got to visit all my old friends in Reading and Oxford. It was perfect.

Tale of Three Thanksgivings

2011-11-26T15:49:00.000-08:00

This was the third Thanksgiving I’ve spent in England and I must say it’s been the best one. The ward I’m in now has quite a few Americans and I was hopeful that I’d get invited to a good ole-fashioned homemade family Thanksgiving dinner. I was not disappointed. I ended up having three Thanksgivings. My first one was actually a few weeks ago and was a great way to kick off the feasting season. My friend and fellow American with whom I serve in Young Women’s is married to an Englishman. She does a Thanksgiving every year for all of her friends and family and this year I was included. Pretty much my favorite part of Thanksgiving is hanging out and making the meal and chatting, so I asked her if I could help with the cooking. She was nice enough to accept my offer and I had a fabulous time. We mashed potatoes, roasted yams, and gabbed the afternoon away. Then we headed up to the bishop’s house for the party. The dinner was delicious and we laughed and I felt like I was back with my family. It was a great night and I discovered that I can fit an entire slice of coconut cream pie in my mouth all at once.

My second Thanksgiving was a bit more low key, but delicious nonetheless. Another American family in the ward called this week to see if we would want to join their family for Thanksgiving. The answer was definitely yes. We went over Friday night and had an amazing meal. She had made rolls and they were so fantastic. I ate three. Then we played games with their cute kids and watched a movie. They were so hospitable and I felt right at home with them. Their kids are sweet and made me miss my cute little guys at home.

Then today I hosted my very first Thanksgiving dinner. I have to say it went well. I was pretty worried about it, having never cooked a turkey or made stuffing before, but I can honestly say that I did a pretty darn good job. I do make all sorts of experimental food and it usually turns out well, so I was fairly confident. I invited a few friends from the ward here and a few from Reading. We ended up with seven of us and I had a distinct sense of accomplishment at the end. I roasted the turkey to perfection and even made stuffing just like Grandma makes, though not quite as well as she does. Everything was done right on time and there was plenty of it. The house was even clean and the dishes loaded in the dishwasher. It was loads of work, but totally worth it. I feel like a proper grown up woman now. Maybe next year I’ll even try pie.

My Grand Misadventure

2011-09-15T12:18:00.000-07:00

I had work in Oxford the other day. It’s at the same school where I worked a lot last year. It’s a pretty rough school and I was hoping to never have to go back there, but I’m not really in a position to turn down work right now so I had to take it. Besides not being a particularly good place to work, I also didn’t know how to get there from my new flat. I know my way around Oxford and I knew which bus to take once I got there, but the getting there was a problem. That problem was exacerbated by the fact that our internet still wasn’t set up so I couldn’t use my trusty friend google maps. On a totally separate subject, I LOVE google maps. I can with complete assurance state that, without google maps, I wouldn’t be able to survive life in England. It has become my truest and nearly constant friend. It never lets me down and is always there when I need it. Except for this time. But it wasn’t google maps’ fault. It was the unwillingness of our internet provider to come set up our phone line until nearly two weeks after we’d moved in that was at fault. Two freakin’ weeks. That’s just ridiculous. But I digress. Back to the story. Charlotte, my bookings agent, had called me Wednesday for Friday so it did give me some time to see if I could figure things out. I agonized over what to do and finally decided to test the sincerity of our neighbors’ offer of ‘anything you need.’ I had only met them once, but they seemed really nice. So, I popped across the hall, knocked on the door, and unfortunately interrupted their dinner. They were gracious and welcomed me in and set up the computer for me to use.

First I checked the national rail website where you can plan train journeys. Strike one. No trains from High Wycombe to Oxford. There was an option to go through Banbury (of Banbury Cross fame,) but it would have cost £26 and that’s just outrageous. Then I typed in the postcodes on google maps and, sure enough, something came up. It would take over two hours, but it was pretty straightforward. I wrote everything down, thanked the neighbors for their kindness, and headed home. I spoke to Charlotte the next day and told her I’d give it a shot and if it worked I’d go back. (I was secretly hoping it wouldn’t work so I’d have a good excuse never to go back to that h*** hole.)

6:00 Friday morning came really early. I got up, got dressed, ate my go power, and headed out. Step one: catch bus 32 into town at 6:47 for £3.20. That part went smoothly. I was familiar enough with town to know where I was and where I needed to be. Step two: catch bus 275 to Oxford at 7:08 for £5.50. This step was also completed without incident. The bus ride was lovely. It wove through charming towns, patchwork fields, and dense forest. I typically quite like taking the bus because it forces me to see areas that I wouldn’t otherwise see. Step three: get off bus 275 at the end of the Headington Road, walk a couple of minutes to the Cowley Road and catch either bus 1 or 5 by about 8:20 for £2.90. Now the success of this venture hinged on me knowing where to get off the bus in order to get the next one without wasting too much time. As we came in to Oxford, I began to feel a bit nervous about this last step. I had no idea how long it would take for the bus to get to the right spot, nor did I know exactly where the right spot was. Unfortunately, I missed getting off at the correct stop, so step three was a fail. I got off at the next stop, which was several minutes farther into town in the opposite direction of where I needed to be. As I was walking to the right bus stop, I saw a number 5 go past. Lame. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for a number 1 and we were back in business, but after wasting nearly 10 minutes, I was going to be cutting it pretty fine. I did in fact make it with 2 minutes to spare and didn’t end up having a first lesson; all the rushing was for naught. The day went pretty well, but I was pretty glad to leave.

Now, the real adventure began. I needed to be home no later than 6:30 because we had a young women’s camp reunion and as the camp director, I really needed to be there. I thought it wouldn’t be a problem at all, seeing as I had three and a half hours to make the journey. I took bus 1 back up the Cowley Road, got off at the right spot, and walked to the bus stop across the street from where I should have gotten off that morning. So far so good. I waited patiently for bus 275 thinking that surely there would be at least one every hour. I had made the schoolboy error of not checking the return journey on google maps, but I assumed I could just make the same journey in reverse. I waited for half an hour without seeing one and figured that I must have just missed the one that came that hour. After another half hour without any sign of bus 275, I began to panic. I knew the bus ride would take around an hour and a half and I didn’t have loads of time to spare. Plus, I needed the loo, but I couldn’t leave in case the bus came while I was gone. So I kept waiting. Finally after waiting over an hour, I decided that drastic measures needed to be taken. I called the bus company and asked when the next bus would be leaving from Oxford. Imagine my despair when the woman told me the next bus wasn’t until 5:40! That was just not going to work. I decided to get on the next bus to Aylesbury, which is in the same general direction as High Wycombe, and hope there was somewhere along the way where I could catch a bus to High Wycombe. (People here laugh at me for being more familiar than they are with England’s geography, but on this occasion, it saved the day.) So I got on bus 200 to Aylesbury for £3.80. The bus driver was really helpful and told me where to get off to catch the next bus. It was in a lovely little town called Thame. Luckily, there was a bus there that goes to High Wycombe. It only leaves once per hour and I got there with 10 minutes to spare. Not quite long enough to hunt for a toilet, though. So at 5:40 I boarded bus 40 for £4.40. (For those of you keeping track at home, that’s nearly £20 spent on transportation. The part that really frosted me was that I wasted the money I paid for the return journeys to High Wycombe and my house.) It was set to arrive at High Wycombe at 6:30 so I called Robyn and asked her to meet me at the bus station with a pair of jeans and a sandwich so we could head out there for the reunion. We made it in plenty of time, but needless to say, I don’t think I’ll take work there again.

What Have I Become?

2011-08-17T08:25:00.001-07:00

When I was preparing to come to England nearly two years ago, I was convinced that I wouldn't become one of those silly people who move somewhere and then come back to America and be all pretentious and use foreign slang. You know the ones I'm talking about. We've all met those guys who went to Chile on their missions and now insist on calling it Cheelay. I was bound and determined to resist the temptation to change, but sometimes it's just easier to give in. So without further ado, my dictionary of English words and phrases that I now use in a totally pretentious, American ex-pat way.

Posh: usually used for something nicer than you need

Toff: old-moneyed people and their interests; like polo and sailing

Fancy: to like/want something or someone; could be chocolate, could be a man

Bunk off: skip, as in work or school

Chav: we don't really have anything like it. They are the low class people who have loads of illegitimate children and live off the government. Their distinctive lifestyle and way of dressing are fodder for comedians everywhere.

Camp: another word we have no equivalent for. It's a man who is heterosexual but has all the markers and behaviors of a homosexual.

Knackered or shattered: completely exhausted

Bucketing down: pouring rain

Minger: someone who is REALLY ugly

Spots: zits

Scrotty: dirty, gross, smelly

Sort out: get everything taken care of

Crack on: keep going

Dodgy: we don't have a word like this one; it pretty much means something that's a bad idea, risky, unreliable, or chancy. It's a great one. I use it all the time now.

Well: used the way we'd use 'very.' "That movie was well scary."

Shrapnel: the little bits of change hanging out in your wallet

Blag:There are loads of ways to use this one: make something up as you go, usually because you forgot to do it; convince someone to give you something; convince someone that what you said it actually true

Broody: baby hungry

Coppers: one and two pence coins

Then there's all the words like trousers, mobile phone, rubbish, courgette, aubergine, and handbag that I hate using, but have to so people don't keep saying "In England we say _____." Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor. I promise I won't use them when I come back.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

2011-06-16T13:34:00.000-07:00

As I was walking home from work today, it started raining. This isn’t really that out of the ordinary, but this time it caused me to reflect on a couple of things. First of all, as I watched a number of people cowering under trees to escape the rain, it occurred to me that Vizzini should have included one more thing in his list of classic blunders: going out in England without an umbrella. It's really just silly not to. It may look like a perfectly sunny day, but that's when it gets you. It only took getting caught, and subsequently soaked, once or twice for me to make the decision to sacrifice the space and endure the added weight of an umbrella in my bag literally everywhere I go.

Secondly, rain is a totally different game here. Growing up in Utah, I’m accustomed to about two kinds of rain: the kind that boils up during summer afternoons, pours down for a few minutes, and makes everything smell clean and fresh and; and the kind that rolls in from the west during the spring and autumn months, lasts all day, and makes you want to eat soup and fresh baked bread. Either way, there’s usually plenty of warning. Here in England, though, rain is a way of life. As such, there is a myriad of different types of rain and ways to describe. Having lived here now for nearly two years, I feel like I’m starting to get a grip on English rain. There is rain the comes down in bucketfuls, rain that comes out of nowhere, rain that goes sideways, rain that blows up under your umbrella, rain that soaks through all your clothes in one minute, rain that lasts for days on end, rain that is really nothing more than mist, rain that gushes out of the sky and floods the gutters, rain that… The list goes on and on. I think they’re sort of like the Eskimos who reputedly have more words for snow than anyone else. The English have more ways to describe rain and the way it’s raining than anyone else. I think the best new word that has entered my vocabulary on the topic of precipitation is the word ‘spitting.’ It’s used to describe the type of rain that is literally like someone blowing raspberries in your face. It’s not raining enough to actually need your umbrella, but is quite enough to get you wet. You can’t use your umbrella without people thinking you’re a wuss, but it will definitely mess up your hair. I’d almost rather it chuck it down and get it over with.

The Wedding

2011-04-30T08:01:00.000-07:00

What can I say? The wedding was amazing. It's been quite a build up over here. While most people pretended that they didn't care, pretty much everyone I know watched it. The British are funny that way. It's just not okay for them to actually admit that they're patriotic or that they care about anything, except football, and that's only every four years at the World Cup. It seems like the younger generation is just jaded toward the world, while the older generation still loves the royalty. I think this wedding may have changed things a bit. Everyone seems to genuinely hope that Kate and William will make it. They appear to be a happy couple and as Prince Charles said upon their engagement, "they've been practicing long enough." I can't imagine what it must be like for her to be thrust into this kind of life, but if yesterday was any indication, she'll acquit herself very well. She looked absolutely amazing. It was spectacular and a day that will spark dreams in the minds of little girls (and big girls) everywhere.

I was torn between going to London to be part of the celebrations held at Hyde Park and Trafalgar Square or stay here in Reading to watch it on TV with friends. In the end I opted to stay here, partly because the weather forecast had been for heavy rain and because I wouldn't have actually seen any of the wedding. I invited some friends over to Margit's house and we watched it with her and her family while eating a delicious brunch of crepes and scrambled eggs. It was pretty fun. Margit is unlike anyone I've ever known. She and I enjoyed the wedding probably more than anyone else. We exclaimed several times and gushed over every new part of the wedding. While I enjoyed myself, after watching the footage on TV, I did feel a little sad that I hadn't just gotten myself there. It looked like quite a party.

I don't think anything could have actually spoiled my enjoyment of the day. I began watching at about 9 while the people arrived at the Abbey. I think I inherited my love of watching people in amazing clothes and commenting on their choices from my grandma. I wish I could have watched it with her. I do love the English tradition of hat wearing for the women. There were some really odd selections, but I think it's fantastic. It seems that the more outrageous the hat, the better. I think I might just have to buy one. Anyway, back to the actual wedding. I absolutely loved the way they decorated the inside of Westminster Abbey. The Abbey is one of the most amazing places I've ever visited and the trees and flowers inside added to the grandeur of the surroundings. I loved watching all the royals arrive and especially enjoyed the fanfare for the Queen. The music throughout the wedding was spectacular. I have to admit that there is something about religious music, especially sung inside an amazing cathedral. Then Kate arrived. She was stunning. I loved her dress. I thought it was appropriately princess-y but also fashionable and classy. In a word, it was perfect. I also liked that she wore her hair down and curled instead of all fancy and piled on top of her head. The veil was perfect and the tiara was not too extravagant. Loved it, loved it, loved it. That is all I can say. Great Day!

Country Rambles

2011-04-24T13:04:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was Good Friday and our stake organized a hike through the English countryside for the Young Single Adults. It was splendid. The weather was perfect and the company superb. It was the most glorious day I've spent in ages. We walked through fields and forests and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. We had a lovely lunch and then hiked back. After we returned to our cars, we sat and chatted and I can't remember an afternoon better spent in ages. It was a day that reminded me of just what an amazing experience it is for me to live in England.

I have developed a love affair with English post boxes. Not the column style standing solitary on the street, but the type that is built into walls, buildings, and posts. The initials at the top indicate which king or queen was on the throne when it was established. This one is from Queen Victoria's time. It's only the second one I've ever seen.

Here are a few pictures from the walk.

I love the trees here. I thought this one was particularly cool with all of the moss growing on it.

The Long Overdue Update

2011-02-05T14:20:00.000-08:00

Life in England is going well. I haven’t been doing much, since I can’t seem to get any work, but we’ll get there in a minute. I don’t know if it’s just that last year I wasn’t sure what to expect or if I was used to more blue skies during the winter, but it seemed like it was miserable and rainy all the time. I guess I’m slowly becoming English because this winter hasn’t seemed that bad. It’s still rainy, cold, and generally grey, but it hasn’t bothered me as much this year. It might also be that it hasn’t rained as much. Who knows, but suffice it to say, I still really like it here.

So, work. Well, when I got back from the States in October, I hit the job search hard. I applied to every history teaching job I could find, but to no avail. I also applied to be a supply teacher. (In America, we call it substitute teaching.) Here in England, they don’t have school districts, so there’s no way to get hired by a district and be sent out to schools by them. Instead, they have temp agencies that are dedicated to finding subs for schools. Anyway, I got hired by an agency in Oxfordshire, which is the county just north of where I live. Then I got hired by another agency that serves schools in the surrounding area. I was pretty excited, but there was some paper work, etc. that needed doing before I could start. Well, the paper work came through, but not in time for me to actually work before Christmas. BLEH! Anyway, since I’ve been back, I still haven’t had any work. I did find another agency based here in Reading. I met with them on Wednesday and they signed me. Unfortunately now the problem is that I don’t have my visa to prove that I have permission to work here. I had to apply for the new visa before the 31^st of January and haven’t gotten it back yet. So there you go. Luckily I have faith that my decision to stay was the right one because there are plenty of reasons to doubt. I’m a little bit nervous to teach here, but also excited for the challenge. I’m sure there will be plenty of interesting experiences that will make it onto these pages. Stay tuned.

Other than that, life is good. I have amazing friends and my housemates are great. I feel blessed to have so many fabulous people in my life. I have made some life-long friends here and I can’t ever think about leaving them without getting a bit misty. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to make new friends and it has been a good experience for me to be here and have to step out of my comfort zone and meet new people. It also makes me feel pretty good about myself that I’ve made so many friends who think I’m cool. Yep, still got it. In all seriousness though, I love the people here and they are extremely good to me. I love that I’ll always have friends in England. I’ve also invited all of them to stay at Mom and Dad’s anytime they’re in town. Hope that’s okay.

Spring has sprung?

2011-01-25T02:58:00.000-08:00

I realize it's been ages since I've posted anything and I'm planning to be better. I guess I just forget sometimes how different things are here because it's become my life. Nothing is new anymore. That's not to say that I've gotten bored of it, just used to it. I'll try to be better.

Today I just wanted to post something that made my day. I was recently walking somewhere (since I walk everywhere now, I can't exactly remember where I was going) and I saw a tree in bloom. I'm not sure what kind of tree it is or what it's typical blossoming time is, but it's the first hint of Spring that I've seen. Suffice it to say, it the cold and rain of an English winter, it was a welcome breath of fresh air. I also saw a few daffodils peeking out of someone's flower patch. I'm so excited. Spring in England is a wonder to behold.

Cheeky Monkeys

2010-11-20T16:45:00.000-08:00

I think I’ve mentioned previously that I moved into a new house back in July. What I haven’t mentioned previously is that the house has a tendency to be invaded by creatures from time to time, especially the kitchen. Now, I’m accustomed to meeting the occasional spider in the basements of houses I’ve lived in, but this is just out of control. There are literally spiders everywhere. I’ve killed several on the walls of my bedroom, leaving their remains as a warning to others, but the kitchen is a different story. My housemate placed horse chestnuts throughout the house to ward off the dirty beasts. I hate to say that despite her belief in their magic spider repellant properties, the konkers haven’t eliminated the scourge. This has made for a number of run-ins. Unfortunately, there are several different styles of spider disposal in the house, which has caused some mild contention. Catherine refuses to deal with them at all. As stated earlier, I prefer to smash them with a shoe and leave the carcass where it sticks. Charlie prefers to put a cup over it, slide a paper underneath it, and carry the spider outside. (I’ve wondered sometimes how many times Charlie has escorted the same spider outside.) Contributing to the problem is the fact that it now gets dark at about 4:30 in the afternoon, so there is plenty of nightly darkness in which the spiders can emerge. The bad news is that the bathroom is through the kitchen, so an appointment with death (for the spider) is not always avoidable.

Which bring me to the even worse news. As much as I dislike spiders, I prefer them to the other frequent invader we get in the kitchen: slugs. I blame my mother for my hatred of all things slug and snail. Her loathing of the slimy monsters boarders on the pathological. Being raised in this environment, naturally I have a warped opinion of the disgusting invertebrates. As horrible as the slugs and snails have been to my mother’s plants, at least they stayed outside. I cannot say the same about the English slugs. I have had several evening encounters with them in the kitchen. I can’t for the life of me figure out how they’re getting in the house. It just shouldn’t happen; I don’t care how moist the environment. The first time it happened I thought it was a fluke. The next time, I was perplexed. The last time, I was completely disgusted. The problem that time was that I stepped on it, in the dark, in the middle of the night, in bare feet. I was on my way to the bathroom and I had decided not to turn the light on or wear my slippers. Rookie mistake. (I thought I’d learned my lesson in Hong Kong when I didn’t wear my shoes to the bathroom one night and stepped on a cockroach, but I guess I allowed complacency to dull my instincts.) I knew the moment I felt the squishy sliminess just what had happened, even in my dazed awake-in-the-middle-of-the-night semi-consciousness. Wiping the slime from my foot, I tried to work out whether or not I’d stepped on it completely enough to kill it. I finished my bathroom business and re-entered the kitchen to assess the carnage. In the harsh light of the fluorescent bulb, it was revealed that I had indeed crushed the life from the nasty creature. As I scraped the flattened body from the kitchen floor, I decided that I would never again use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

London Fog

2010-11-15T14:20:00.000-08:00

While I realize this is hardly sufficient to make up for the last few months without any posts, I promise to get caught up soon.

I just had to quickly write something while it was still fresh on my mind. It's starting to get cold here and while that in and of itself is not good news, it does have its benefits. The one I want to address is the fog. Tonight is a perfectly foggy English night. I have to say, I love it. It fits so perfectly into the preconceived notion I had of what England would be like. There's something deliciously mysterious about fog, as if it is an ally concealing one's escapades from prying eyes. As I walked through the fog tonight in the orange glow cast by the street lamps, I pictured myself in a different time and a different place, dressed in a party gown and wrapped in a warm fur coat with the memory of the night's adventures bringing a smile to my face, wandering the early morning London streets after a night of pure indulgence. Oh, what might have been...

The Photo Version

2010-09-18T16:51:00.001-07:00

These are in backwards order for some reason and I can't be bothered to switch them all around.

My friends and I at Kim's wedding.

These are some of the girls at camp serving up lunch.

This is me after returning from our hike. We got caught in a terrible downpour.

I don't remember ever having been so wet while wearing clothes.

This is what the camp site looked like. They are old Army tents.

At the 4th of July picnic with other Americans in Oxford.

Beach day! Sure it looks nice, but don't be fooled.

The Latest News

2010-09-18T16:47:00.000-07:00

I’m FREE!!!!! That’s right everyone. I have finished my dissertation. It wasn’t even due until the 20^th of September, but I turned it in yesterday. For those of you who don’t know me very well, this is shocking. I’m very much the procrastinator, but I decided that this time would be different. I don’t know why I haven’t been doing that all along. It was a great relief to be finished writing weeks in advance and be able to just tweak it during the last week. I feel good about the work I’ve done and can’t really believe that it’s all over. I still have to wait and see how everyone else thinks that I’ve done, but no matter what, I’m pretty sure I’ll pass my course. I will actually have a Master’s degree. Crazy. As a reward, my housemate Charlie and I are going to Ireland next week for a few days. I’ll be sure to post some pictures when I get back.

In other recent news, life here is going well. I was called into the Relief Society Presidency a couple of months ago. I’m the second counselor and I’m getting the hang of it. I’ve been in RSPs before, but we have our work cut out for us here. There are a lot of people who need a lot of help. I forget just how blessed I am and seeing what other people have to deal with helps me remember that my life is really pretty easy. As difficult as it is, I do love being a bigger part of the ward and feel like less of a student with every passing week. I feel more and more confident in my decision to come to England. As much as my mom hates to hear it, I feel very much at home here. I’ve learned a lot about myself here and have been able to have some wonderful experiences.

I’ve decided to stay here for a little while longer at least. Now that I’m finished with my dissertation, I’m going to look for work. My goal is to find work as a substitute teacher. That way, I can work when I want to, but still have the flexibility to travel and make the most of the opportunities that I’m given. I’m a bit nervous about teaching again, and England is much different than Utah. I may be in over my head. The nice thing about substitute teaching is that I only have to go to the schools that I want to go to. If there are naughty kids, I don’t need to go there again. I’ve gotten so used to the student lifestyle, it will be hard to get back in the swing of the working world again. It will, however, be nice to not have any homework or things I ‘should’ be doing. I’m hoping to start working in October, so I’ll be sure to keep you all posted.

I’ve also had a lot of fun this summer. Because of my great work ethic, I was able to take time to do some fun stuff, too. We went to the beach one weekend in Bournemouth. I’m told that to be a true Brit, I have to have a picnic at the beach in the rain. Well, I guess that will have to wait. While it was a lovely, sandy beach, it was pretty frigid water and not very warm outside. I could only really convince myself to go in to my waist, and only did that once. It was a beautiful day, though, and I always love the beach.

Two of my friends also got married this summer so I got to experience a proper English wedding. One of them was my old housemate, Kim, and the other was my friend Catherine, who is in the stake. Just more evidence that I’m incorporating myself into English society pretty well. Anyway, they do things a bit differently here. English law is that weddings have to be open to anyone, so LDS people have to get married civilly first and then go to the temple to be sealed. It does make it pretty fun. They get to walk down the aisle and everything. It’s a big deal. They’ve got the bridesmaids, the ring bearer, and the whole bit. The women wear hats, and there are toasts and speeches and lots of delicious food. I have to admit, I kind of like it. I was sad when I learned years ago, that Mormon girls don’t get to walk down the aisle like Fraulein Maria. Of course, if I get married here…

My favorite experience this summer, though, was going on young women’s camp. I had volunteered to go, but then was in America when they made all the assignments. Luckily, someone dropped out and I decided to fill the gap. It was the best decision I’ve made in a long time. I had a fabulous time. The girls were amazing and I made some great friends in the stake. They do things a bit differently here, but I like it. Since there aren’t really mountains in which to camp, they just go to fields. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy camping when it’s not freezing cold. (And when my dad isn’t in the tent snoring. My new system includes earplugs and an eye mask.) Also, since there aren’t mountains, the hikes are really more like a lovely country walk, which is totally fine with me. Anyway, they set up all the tents in the middle of the field and mix the girls up with others from all over the stake. Each tent has a ‘tent mum’ assigned who is in charge of making sure the girls are okay and doing the things they’re supposed to. That was my job. I loved it because if gave me the chance to really interact with the girls. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed being with kids that age. They loved me. I think at first it was the novelty of being an American, but by the end of the week, they realized how much I cared about them, and we created a real bond. We had so much fun together. We did a service project, talked about boys, and studied the gospel. I was so impressed with the girls in my tent and their gospel knowledge. It was a reminder to me that the Church is going to be in good hands. The kids in this generation are fantastic. It was just the kind of spiritual boost I needed to get through the difficult, stressful month while I finished my dissertation. Best decision I made all summer.

England Adventures

2010-07-31T08:27:00.000-07:00

Things are going really well here in Merry Olde England. The new house is wonderful and Charlie is proving to be an excellent new roommate. We have ended up staying up late almost every night chatting, but still haven’t run out of things to say. I predict great things.

Anyway, I promised to tell about my adventures of late. First of all, when I returned to England, my good friend Laura was here waiting for me. She had spent a couple of days in London and was ready to explore the fabulous English countryside. We rented a car and the adventure began. We spent one day driving through the splendid Cotswold Hills. We visited Blenheim Palace, the ancestral home of Winston Churchill’s family. It was beautiful and the gardens were stunning. Then we just wandered around in the car, taking little one-lane country roads to perfectly quaint little villages. The Cotswold villages fit pretty much every stereotype for an English village. The roofs are usually thatched, the houses built of stone, the stone churches surrounded by crumbling gravestones. Yep, pretty much perfect. Combine that with rolling hills covered with grazing sheep and a patchwork of colors and you have some of the most picturesque places I’ve ever been.

This is Blenheim Palace. I chose this picture because I look pretty.

Like I said, spectacular scenery.

After our Cotswold adventure, Laura and I were sure nothing could beat it for beauty. We were, however, wrong. There are worse things to be wrong about I think. The next day we left early in the morning to drive to Devon and Cornwall. These two counties are renowned throughout England for their beauty and it is easy to understand why. We wandered around again and stopped at a couple of towns to walk around and stroll along the promenade at the sea (not the ocean). We eventually ended up in Dartmouth where we decided to spend the night. We found a delicious little B&B and then went for a pub meal. After dinner, we decided to take a walk and were rewarded for our efforts with some of the most romantic moments I’ve ever shared with anyone. Too bad it was once again with a girl, and a Giddens girl at that. (Laura’s sister is Amanda, my old roommate with whom I’ve walked many a moonlit beach, strolled through magnificently winding European streets, and shared an uncomfortably small bed on multiple occasions.) Dartmouth sits on a beautiful little harbor and there are sailboats anchored all around. Laura and I happened to be there during the full moon and it looked magical reflecting on the water. The next day we took a little ferry to the village of Dittisham where we wandered around for a couple of hours. Then we went back to Dartmouth and got the car. We decided to drive down the Cornish coast to Fowey where Daphne du Maurier spent much of her life. The drive there couldn’t have been more beautiful. We again found ourselves on single-track roads, which seemed impossibly narrow, yet somehow didn’t get hit by any of the oncoming cars we passed. It was absolutely stunning. The banks along the road were covered with wildflowers and it seemed as if the top of every hill offered vistas even more beautiful than the last. I was in heaven. We eventually reached Fowey and meandered through the little village by the sea. Fromthere,we drove home, just skirting the famous moors spoken of in Jamaica Inn. I loved the entire journey. I have decided that further exploration of Devon and Cornwall is absolutely necessary. Any takers?

This path reminded me of the azalea and rhododendron path in Rebecca.

I can’t remember the name of this place, but it was somewhere in Devon.

This was on our way to Dartmouth just outside of wherever the last picture was.

This is lovely Dartmouth harbor.

This is the view from the hillside in Dittisham.

Here is the beautiful harbor of Fowey.

I liked this shot because it looks like a painting.

2010-07-16T03:48:00.000-07:00

Lately

2010-07-06T06:57:00.000-07:00

Well, my goodness. Life has gotten busy. I am not sure how it’s already July. Anyway, things here are lovely. Just by way of catch-up, I’ll give a brief overview of some of the recent happenings. I went home to Salt Lake at the end of April to do some research for my thesis, but also to visit family and friends and eat lots of delicious food that I can’t get here. Mission accomplished on all fronts. I had a wonderful time hanging out at home with the parents, was able to attend graduations galore, had Mexican food on several occasions (which has helped to tide me over, although sometimes I splurge and buy Doritos and salsa, just because I can’t stand it any longer,) and got to feel Baby Girl Pruett kicking around inside my little sister. So overall, a pretty good visit.

While my visit was a nice chance to see everyone, my real purpose was to complete the research necessary for my thesis. I had an absolutely fantastic time doing my research. My thesis is a comparison between LDS and non-LDS English immigrants to the US during the last part of the 1800s, so naturally I needed access to the Church’s archival materials. That meant that I spent all day everyday at the Church History Library in downtown Salt Lake City. Who knew they were open for 12 hours on Thursdays and on Saturdays? Lucky me! Needless to say, I got to know the missionary couples who serve there quite well, as well as the Church employees. I loved it. The research was interesting and I had some amazing experiences with some of the sources. I was also granted unprecedented access to some of the files. I felt like a proper historian. It was a stressful time, as I felt the drive to look at as much as I possible could, knowing that it was likely my only chance to see it. I read so much microfilm that I began to see it when I closed my eyes at night. It was quite an experience, though, to be reading the personal thoughts and feelings of people who lived over a hundred years ago. I felt as though I had come to know some of them. I also had a few history nerd moments when handling the originals of some of the documents and imagining the people who created them. It might not make sense to everyone, but I enjoyed it immensely.

Now the real fun begins. I am currently in the process of actually writing the thesis, which is proving more difficult and far less enjoyable than the research. I have just over 3,000 words of the 20,000 that I need, so there is clearly much work to be done. I have set the goal to write some every day, but it’s not going too well. I have great plans for this week, though. It’s sort of intimidating to realize that the statements I make and the conclusions I draw could someday be quoted by another person. (It is also a bit fun to think of being an authority on a subject.)

In other news, I have moved house. The contract is for one year, which means that barring deportation, I will be staying in England until next summer. I’m pleased, though not sure exactly how everything will work out financially, but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. At any rate, my old housemate Kim is getting married in September so we have replaced her. We also added one to our number and needed a bigger house. As soon as things are sorted out and the house looks nice, I will take pictures and post them. We’re not far from where we were before, but this house is quite a bit nicer. The owners replaced the bathroom and redid the walls and carpeting, so it looks pretty posh. It also has an extra room and a living room, which our other house was lacking. There’s also space in the back for a small vegetable patch, which I have great plans for. It’s one downfall is the absence of a clothes dryer, which will be greatly missed this winter when I have to lay my clothes out on the radiators to dry. Bleh. I hate crunchy underclothes. Oh well, I’m told that I’ll survive. We’ll see.

Other than that, life is good. I’m healthy and happy and loving the English summer. The loveliness of the summer almost makes the dreariness of the winter worth it. It stays light until well after 10 pm, which means that people stay out and about. I love it. It also, unfortunately, means that the sun comes up around 4 in the morning, which I don’t love. I’m currently in the process of securing some blackout drapes for my east-facing bedroom. I’ve had a few summer adventures, which I will write about presently, but I feel this post has reached its boredom-inducing threshold. Thank you for persevering through to the end. I hope to be better at posting in the coming weeks. It will give me a good distraction from writing my thesis. J

Wanderings

2010-04-24T07:44:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone. Here are some more of my photos from various wanderings around England. Erik and I have been trying to use our weekends to see as much as we can and I think we've done a pretty good job of it. We've been very lucky to have fantastic weather for the most part as well.

I hope you enjoy my photo travel log.

Windsor

This was a rainbow that appeared in Windsor just as we were getting ready to leave.

These are in backward order, but I couldn't be bothered to switch them all around. Anyway, this is the whole Windsor Castle complex. St. George's chapel is closest to me with the castle in the background. The queen was actually there the weekend we visited.

This is the original castle fortification built by William the Conquerer.

The rest of the castle grew up around this part.

This is just part of the fortification with the garden that used to be the moat.

Oxford

This is just inside Magdalene College. It was my favorite.

This is in the gardens of Magdalene College.

It was really beautiful there and the spring flowers were just starting to bloom.

I don't really remember which college this was, but I loved that tree.

Bath

This is the famous Royal Crescent in Bath. It's prime real estate.

I can just picture Jane Austen herself wandering along those sidewalks.

This is in the Pump Room where you can have a swig of the water for free. It's pretty nasty.

This is the main bath in the Roman Baths complex. The water is nice and warm, and green.

Here is a view of Bath Abbey from the Roman baths museum. All the buildings in the city are built with the same color stone, which makes it quite lovely.

Ole!

2010-03-29T13:44:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone and apologies for the lack of posting lately. At least this time it’s for a good reason. My program has actually been pretty busy lately so I’ve had to do schoolwork. Crazy. Anyway, I’ve been on a couple of cool trips lately so I thought I’d post a few pictures from them. This first batch are from my trip to Spain with Erik and some of his friends from his course. I loved Spain and it was a welcome relief from the cold and rainy English winter. (And the guys were fairly good looking in general. And there weren't

lots of other blonds so...good times for me.)

This building housed the Picasso museum but is actually an old mansion from the early 1400s. The old town was amazing with old houses like this everywhere. They all have a little courtyard in the middle that stays cool all day. The museum was pretty cool, too.

This is at the famous Sagrada Familia designed by Gaudi. The Spanish lady who took our picture clearly didn't understand that it's not so much about having our entire bodies in the picture as it is about the cathedral that we had traveled so far to see.

The beautiful Spanish beach. The water was gorgeous, but a little too cold to get in. It was nice to be at a beach, nonetheless. We also got to see a naked man.

These are some of the stalls at the market just off La Ramblas. Everything looked pretty arranged like this, even huge hanging hams.

England, je t'aime

2010-02-28T15:46:00.000-08:00

I was chatting with a friend a while ago and he asked me what my favorite thing about England is so far. It’s such a good question, but a difficult one. I thought about it for a moment and said something, but have continued to think about it ever since. I couldn’t narrow it down to just one thing that is my favorite, so you’ll have to bear with a rather long list. Firstly, I love that it’s England. There are times when I have to remind myself that I actually live in England. I’m not just visiting; I actually live here and that is so much cooler. I go to the grocery store, I do my laundry, I go shopping. I just do it in England instead. It means that I walk a lot more, but I don’t mind it because it’s beautiful. The walk from my house to the town center passes several old churches and crosses the river. There’s a lovely garden with spring flowers beginning to poke up. I also love the buildings. Here in Reading, most of the buildings are red brick. I think it’s just lovely. Most of the houses are also covered with vines or ivy as well. It gives them an old look that is perfect for imagining oneself in a Jane Austen novel or something.

I also love it here at night. It’s often a little foggy and the streetlights are much orangey-er than they are at home, so there’s this soft orange glow everywhere. It’s romantic and makes me want to go on a long walk hand in hand with a cute boy.

I also love that everywhere I go there is history. There’s a story to everything here. I can imagine people in old-fashioned clothes wandering around town, climbing out of carriages, attending the theatre, or having tea and scones. I love the feeling that the buildings and streets and trees have been witness to events that changed the world.

Another thing I love here is the trees. There are beautiful trees everywhere. They’re big and tall and the branches spread out beautifully all around. Some of them have vines growing up the trunks. One of my favorite things to do is ride through the countryside where the fields roll over the hills and the sheep graze. But what I love the most about the fields is the great big tree that is often smack dab in the middle. I have no idea what kind of tree it is, but almost every field has one and they’re beautiful.

I love the old people here too. I love that the women wear tweed skirts, knee-high stockings, blouses, knitted sweater vests, and carry crocheted shopping bags around with them. I love that the old men wear hats and suits when they go out for the day, even if it’s just to the shops. They perfectly fit my imaginings of what old English people would look like.

I guess what I love most about England, is that I’m here. I feel so lucky every time I think about the experience I’m having here. I had always wanted to live abroad someday and now I am and I love it. I might just have to stay a while longer.

The Quest Continues.

2010-02-19T04:20:00.000-08:00

As you may recall when I first got here, I was freezing. It was only September and I worried about how I would survive the winter. As roommates we had decided to only have the heating on for a few hours in the morning and a few in the evening. I hated it. I was freezing all the time and spent my waking hours wrapped up in a blanket. My feet were like blocks of ice and I couldn’t even bear to be without my jacket. The only time I was truly warm was in the shower, where I would stand in the hot water until my feet melted and my blood warmed. This was no way to live. (By way of explanation, we have an old-school boiler and radiators in our rooms. The gas heats up the water, which flows through the radiators and gives us heat. Unfortunately, there’s no thermostat to regulate the temperature; the heat is either all the way on or all the way off. This makes it quite difficult to maintain a very constant temperature in the house. It gets nice and warm and then very shortly after turning off the heating, it gets really cold.) So, we called the gas provider to see if there was anything we could do to keep the heating more even because to my mind having to reheat the house every few hours was wasting a lot of energy, whereas having it on more often for less time would perhaps use less. So the gas company told us that the rate would be lower if we used a bit more gas. So we started leaving the heating on all day with the radiators turned down. IT WAS HEAVEN! Then the heating bill came and it was not good news. We realized that we’d been given bad information by the gas company. So we decided to go back to only having the heating on for 8 hours a day and I went back to wearing a blanket around all the time. We were a bit smarter about it and decided to heat the house up for an hour or so and then have the heating come on every 15 minutes for 15 minutes. We figured this way it would maintain the heat better. It was working perfectly until two days ago when the heating just stopped working. The pilot light was on, but the heat wouldn’t switch on. That also meant we couldn’t get any hot water. We called the gas company but they couldn’t send anyone over until the next day. That meant we had to spend the rest of the day and night without any heat. I was not pleased, but spent the evening at the Church building where the heating was working. I came home and got in bed as quickly as I could. The next morning the gasman came and fixed our heating. We had heat again and we rejoiced and I took a shower, which turns out was a good plan because last night, the pilot light went out. We tried multiple times to restart it and it would stay lit for a few seconds only. We were again facing a night of no heat. We called our landlord who is a tightwad and won’t get a new boiler despite the fact that ours is 15 years old and a piece of crap. He called the gas company and they came out today and tried again. We’ve now become quite good friends with the gas technician as we’ve seen him many times. I feel like we’re all on the same team against the landlord in our efforts to secure a new boiler. Anyway, he did some other things and hopefully that will do the trick. My great hope is that I will now be able to sleep without the fear of hypothermia.

Home Again, Finnegan

2010-01-20T11:16:00.000-08:00

Today was my first real day back from Christmas, in that I had my first lecture of the term. It was good to get out of the house. I actually arrived back in the UK on Thursday the 7^th of January, the morning after one of the largest snowstorms in UK memory. So I left cold and snowy Utah for cold and snowy England. Now, I came to England under the impression that it wouldn’t snow here. I have been disappointed. Granted, snow is uncommon here, but no less undesirable in my mind. The problem is that since snow is uncommon here, no one knows how to function in it. I found out later that the airport had only recently reopened when I landed. This meant that there were thousands of people who had been stranded there the previous night who were now understandably anxious to get home. This led to some less than pleasant exchanges between the RailAir coach driver and several passengers. Suffice it to say, I finally got on the coach after waiting in the sub-zero temperatures for nearly 45 minutes.

Reading is about 40 minutes from the airport and the ride was luckily uneventful. I was a little put out that I had to come home to a snowy mess, but to be fair, it looked beautiful. However, as we made our way through the snowy countryside to Reading, I began to wonder how I was going to get from the train station to my house if the roads were impassable. I went to the bus stop and stood in line, still in sub-zero conditions, only to find out that the bus I needed wasn’t running. The only option would be a taxi, most of which were charging extra for hazardous conditions. Rude. So I got in another line to wait for one of very few taxis that were out that day. After another 20 minutes in the cold, I told the driver where I lived and he told me he would get me as close as he could. This turned out to be the end of my street, which left me to drag my suitcase through the several inches of snow covering my road. Lovely. I finally made it in to the house, which thankfully, was warm.

The next day I decided that I needed to go to the little corner grocery store since I had left very little food in my cupboards when I left. The snow hadn’t melted at all and I couldn’t face trudging through the snow on my front walk. Then I had a stroke of brilliance. I grabbed one of our cookie sheets and cleared our walk, laughing the whole time at what the neighbors must have thought. With our path clear, Kim and I journeyed to the store and bought the necessary provisions, minus milk and water, which they had sold out of. I lived the next few days on beans and toast and whatever else I could find left over in the cupboard. Luckily things have now thawed and we discovered that the big grocery stores let you order online and have groceries delivered. Brilliant.

(Also, they use bulldozers to clear snow.)

My life of late

2009-12-13T12:53:00.000-08:00

I know it’s been ages since I’ve written anything, so I’m going to try to get everyone caught up with the goings on here. I‘d like to say I’ve been busy with schoolwork, but we all know that would be a lie. My term ended on Friday and I have an essay to write over Christmas, but that can wait. There are too many other fun things to do. I have blogs to write, and films to see, and boys to flirt with, and people to chat with. I can’t be bothered to actually do what it is I came here to do. Don’t be silly.

Life has been going well, other than the cold and rainy weather that has led to the skin on my toes falling off. I should probably look into that. Luckily they have a national health plan here so I can go it anytime for anything. So apart from the diseases, things are going great. I really like it here and have informed my parents that I may never come home. I’ve mixed a few new idiomatic phrases into my vocabulary and I’m using the English slang mostly correctly. There is still the occasionally ‘pants’ incident, but for the most part I’ve avoided embarrassing myself too much. I think I’m getting the hang of things over here and I’m becoming a proper Brit. I’ve made some friends in my course and they’ve even started inviting me out for drinks after class. Hooray! There are even plans in the works for next term to get together on Thursday nights for pub quiz night. I’ll keep you all posted on that, but I can’t help thinking that I would excel at it considering my competition will be drunk.

One the best things about being here, though, is the proximity of Reading to other exciting locations. I just popped over to Bath last weekend for the Christmas market and got rained on the whole time, but loved it. Bath is a beautiful town and plus, I got kissed under the mistletoe a couple times. (Just on the cheek, mom. Don’t worry.) Then on Thursday I got to go to the British National Archives in Kew. It…was…amazing. I know I’m a history nerd and everything, but still, it was cool. We got a special tour that took us into the actual archive rooms. I’m amazed at the amount of information contained there, and the interesting people that spend their days there. There were some wicked old men in really interesting clothes scattered throughout studying ancient manuscripts and maps. Next time I go, I’m planning to wear an odd hat and mismatched clothes so I’ll fit in better. After our visit, some of my classmates and I went into the city (London) for the rest of the afternoon. We walked through the Hyde Park Christmas Fair and wandered along the Thames. It still amazes me that I actually live here. I just hop on over to London every now and then like it’s nothing. Who does that? I think it’s fantastic.

Anyway, that what’s going on here. Life in England is good and getting better every day.

You don't know what you've got till it's gone

2009-12-02T07:09:00.000-08:00

Things I miss the most about America:

1. Functional deodorant (I’m going to stock up over Christmas)

2. Mexican food that has flavor (The Brits really don’t like spicy food)

3. The Bill of Rights (No explanation necessary)

4. Crunchy peanut butter (No one does it like the Americans)

5. Central heating (This radiator business is killing me)

6. Driving (I’ve walked more in the last 3 months than the previous 3 years)

7. Clothing and shoe sizes I understand (I still have no idea what size I wear)

8. Funny TV (Luckily I can watch the good stuff online)

9. A large selection of cold cereals (I’m getting tired of Cheerios)

10. Baggers at the grocery store (I have a new-found respect for their skills)

A Thanksgiving to Remember

2009-11-28T12:05:00.000-08:00

Thursday’s Thanksgiving will go down in history as my strangest. Even on my mission and study abroad we had relatively normal Thanksgiving celebrations. This year, unfortunately, I had to go to class. I had been invited by my friend Sara to a proper American Thanksgiving, but had to turn it down because England apparently couldn’t care less about our American holidays. The lecture I usually have on Tuesday afternoons was switched to Thursday from 4-6. This led to me having the exciting opportunity to spend my favorite holiday listening to a fairly boring lecture about the new British history. Definitely not Thanksgiving related. Luckily, I did have something to look forward to later that evening. I had been invited to a murder mystery dinner party. We started the evening with potato and leak soup, then had chili over rice, and finished up with apple crumble. Also not really Thanksgiving related, but delicious nonetheless. While we ate, we became involved in a murder. As part of the fun, I was given the part of an American journalist who was in England to cover a big horseracing event. I was supposed to be loud, brash, and “American,” whatever that means. Anyway, it was set in the 1920s, which is one of my favorite time periods because of the mob. I’ve sort of always wanted to be a 1920s mobster’s girlfriend. I realize that’s not possible, but it has always held a fairly romantic appeal to me. Now, back to the murder. The group of us was on the train to the races when the jockey was killed. Through the course of the investigation, it was discovered that I had ties to the American underworld. That’s right, I worked for the mob! My dream had come true. Incidentally, I was also the murderer. Darn Americans! We had a really good time and I was glad to have something to do so I didn’t mope around being jealous of the turkey and pie everyone was eating at home.

Fortunately, Friday I did get a proper Thanksgiving dinner and it was fantastic. My friend Lindsay is also American and her parents came over for her graduation. They brought some of the necessary ingredients for preparation of the required elements of Thanksgiving dinner. There was turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie and the required sharing of what we’re all thankful for. I was put in charge of that, I guess, because being thankful is an American thing. The food was delightful and we all ate until near bursting, which of course is the best part of Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, there was no fat dogging afterward. So despite my rather strange Thanksgiving of the night before, I still got my turkey and stuffing. Alls well that ends well, as they say.

Swedish highlights

2009-11-16T15:51:00.000-08:00

Most of you know I went to Sweden a little while ago. What you don’t know is that it was fantastic. I had a wonderful time there. My cousin is living in Stockholm so I had a personal tour guide for the entire trip. We wandered around the city and visited a number of museums. A fair amount of time was also spent commenting on the general good-lookingness of Swedes. I had no idea that everyone in the whole country is beautiful. I was flattered when people actually mistook me for a Swede. I may have to return to Sweden if this England thing doesn’t work out. Anyway, we also ate a fair amount of delicious food. There’s this one thing they have there that is heavenly. It’s a cookie of sorts, but better than any cookie I’ve ever had before. It’s a really soft, chewy cookie with a layer of chocolate butter (I know! Why haven’t we thought of chocolate butter in America? Forget honey butter) that is then covered with a hard chocolate shell. Delicious. We also ate some meatballs that we’re still not sure of the ingredients for. On the English translation of the menu it was called “wildforce” meat. So if anyone has any insight into what a wildforce is, I would love to hear it. My favorite was lunch the last day. We went to what amounts to an indoor market where some of the stalls have a sort of deli counter. There’s a bunch of prepared foods and you just choose what you want and then they warm it up for you and you sit at their counter and eat. I felt very authentic.

Anyway, enough about delicious food and even more delicious people. Now on to the actual trip. The first day we went to the city hall where they hold the Nobel Prize banquet every December. It was pretty cool. I had a definite history-nerd moment there. Unfortunately no one there could answer my question as to why President Obama was given a Nobel Prize this year. Erik said it was because the committee was Finnish this year and they’re all a bit off. Who knows? After the City Hall, we wandered around town for a bit and then went to the Vasa Museum. The Vasa is a giant warship that sunk after 25 minutes on its maiden voyage. Funny story. It sat in Stockholm harbor for 300+ years and was finally rescued in the 1960s. They spent 30 years restoring it and now it has a museum built around it. It was pretty cool. Next on the list was the Swedish culture museum. It had an entire floor dedicated to table settings, which I’m told are a big deal in Sweden. It looked a little like an IKEA showroom. When we finished there we went to the old town and wandered around. That’s where we had the meatballs. After dinner, we headed to a YSA dance where people from all over Scandinavia were competing for who could speak English the best. I’m not kidding. I thought some of the people were American. Well, we danced the night away and I met some lovely people, who I’m sure I will never see again. The next day was Sunday and we decided to get some delicious breakfast before Church, which ended up costing us more than dinner the previous night. Oh well, it was tasty. Church was the standard testimony-meeting-with-a-bunch-of-people-who-are trying-to-impress-each-other stuff. The only thing that truly impressed me was the level of English proficiency. Impeccable, once again. Monday morning we went to Skansen, which is an outdoor museum, I guess. There’s a zoo with native animals and some typical houses from different areas and time periods in Sweden. My favorite was the glass-blowing demonstration, mostly because one of the guys kept looking at me. I rewarded him with smiles and the purchase of a vase. After Skansen we had lunch at the market place and then I had to leave for the airport. All in all, not a bad weekend. I think next time, though, I’ll go in the summer and without a guy who I’d like to think deterred the hot Swedish guys from hitting on me.

The interior of City Hall. It's pretty impressive

This is the Vasa. Sorry it's so dark.

Lovely me in lovely old town wearing my new coat, which I'm glad to say passed the Sweden cold test.

The view from Skansen. Stockholm is a beautiful city.

Erik and I freezing to death at Skansen.

Who's Guy Fawkes?

2009-11-11T10:44:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday was Guy Fawkes Day. It’s not a holiday we celebrate in America so I’ll give you the rundown, as I understand it. A long time ago, there was a group of people who didn’t like the king. Apparently he was abusing his power or something. Well, this group decided that they needed to do something about it, so they planned to blow up the Houses of Parliament. They put the plan in action and planted a bunch of gunpowder under the building. Guy had one simple job to do. Guy was the triggerman. Unfortunately for Guy, he was caught, then hung, drawn, and quartered. In celebration of his failure, apparently, the Brits make effigies of Guy and burn him. Then they shoot off fireworks. I’m not kidding. That’s the whole story. Well, my roommates decided that I needed to have an authentic Guy Fawkes Day experience and so we made an effigy, lit him on fire, and shot off fireworks. Here are some of the pictures from the night’s festivities.

My roommate Kim and our friend Lindsay creating Guy.

Guy gettin' a little fresh. He deserved to die.

Some wicked awesome firework action.

Guy meets his end to the cheers of the onlookers.

Autumn on campus

2009-11-03T03:32:00.000-08:00

Everyone has been asking for a few pictures of what campus looks like, so I carried my camera around last week like a total dork and took a few pictures. I hope it was worth my public humiliation.

This is one of the older buildings on campus. It houses part of the law school. I'm considering hanging out in front to pick up a lawyer. I'll keep you posted.

These are some of the lovely trees on campus. The campus is fairly old (like over a hundred years) so there are a lot of old trees. It's beautiful.

This is the way I walk to class sometimes. Don't worry mom, I don't walk there alone after dark. And Jack the Ripper died long ago.

This is the lake on campus. Pretty posh, having a lake on campus. I have grand plans for what to use this lake for, but haven't yet found anyone with which to accomplish those plans.

Time flies!

2009-10-25T14:06:00.000-07:00

I have now lived in England for a month. Let me begin by saying that I absolutely love it here. I may never come home. Here are some of my observations so far.

1: England is cold. I had heard this, but didn’t really understand it until I got here. I wear a blanket wrapped around me pretty much all the time at home, and it’s only October.

2: English food isn’t half bad. They have some really delicious stuff here. For example: pickle, a delicious spread eaten with bread and cheese and made of I don’t know what; HP sauce, to be eaten with anything traditionally part of English breakfast, but also good on almost everything I’ve tried it on; every kind of yogurt I’ve tried; and squash, which is actually drink mix, not a vegetable.

3: English teeth aren’t that bad either. They’re not perfect, but they’re also not as wonky as we think they are in America.

4: English accents really are fun to listen to, especially when they’re kids. Sometimes I find myself not listening to what’s being said because I just like the sound of what they’re saying. And, there are so many different kinds of accents. It’s great.

5: English drivers are insane. I have feared for my life on multiple occasions. The streets are very narrow and the drivers have to swerve around parked cars and cars that are coming towards them. It also doesn’t help that it feels like we’re turning into oncoming traffic all the time.

Introducing...

2009-10-22T04:45:00.000-07:00

I realized I have not yet introduced my other roommate. So without further ado, I give you, Nicole. She’s brilliant. She’s of Jamaican descent, so now I have a black friend. Yahoo! (I know what you’re all thinking and no, none of her relatives work on any cruise ships. And her brothers are too young.) Anyway, she’s from the east, actually very near Kim. We sat on her bed and talked for a couple of hours the first night we met. It was great. She’s full of energy and loves to shop. I think we’ll have a great time together. Being around her makes me feel like I’m young again, which is great. We laugh all the time when we're together and have had many extremely important discussions on such topics as chips and hair. When we first met, she wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter and asked if there were any guys I thought were cute and about my love history. She has promised to help me find some worthy snogs. She also agrees that our house is freezing and has agreed to take my side on the heating issue.

Lost in Translation

2009-10-16T07:45:00.000-07:00

Here’s a sampling of how many of my conversations with my roommates go:

Me: “Do we have any dish soap?”

Them: “What’s dish soap?”

Me: “Umm, soap you wash dishes with. Don’t you call it that?”

Them: “No. It’s called washing up liquid.”

Me: “Washing up liquid? That takes so long to say, though.”

Me: “Is it okay for me to say _______.”

Them: “No. That’s a swear word here.”

Me: “Good to know.”

Me: “I hate it when it rains. It gets my pants wet.”

Them: “How does it get your pants wet? Are you sticking your bum out?”

Me: with a confused look. “No. (Then remembering that ‘pants’ are underwear) I mean. I hate it when it rains because it gets my trousers wet.”

Them: “Right. That makes more sense.”

Them: “We need to (some idiomatic phrase).”

Me: blank stare

Them: “Don’t you say that in America?”

Me: “Nope.”

Me: “Should I be offended by ______.”

Them: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay.”

Them: “It’s just the other side of the zebra crossing.”

Me: “The what?”

Them: “Zebra crossing. Where you cross the street.”

Me: “Ahh. The crosswalk. Gotcha.”

Me: “I also bought English muffins. Wait. You guys probably just call them muffins, huh?”

Them: “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Week one in review

2009-10-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

I have now completed my first week of graduate school. Here’s how it went. (You’ll notice that there’s not a lot of class work being done. This may or may not change in the future. I kind of hope it doesn’t, but realize it should.)

Monday: Woke up around 10. Had breakfast. Lounged around. Read scriptures. Eventually got dressed. Did some laundry. Watched most of Return of the King. Went to FHE.

Tuesday: Got up around 11. Got ready. Did more laundry. Went to campus to open a bank account. It took over an hour. Should have gone to the library afterward, but didn’t want to. Went to ASDA (English Wal-Mart) and spent $200 on food and stuff that I already own in the States but couldn’t bring with me. Lame.

Wednesday: Got up around 10:30 after staying up late to watch the end of Return of the King that I hadn’t finished on Monday. Went shopping in the afternoon instead of going to the library. Bought some new long-sleeved tops since it’s cold here. Attended Institute and scoped out the guys.

Thursday: Got up late again. Puttered around the house doing nothing very important. Intended to go to the library before class but didn’t. Went to class from 4-6. Talked to Nicole about guys.

Friday: Went to the library for an hour and a half. Checked out 5 books. Finally something productive is being done. Ate lunch. Chatted with my roommate. Read one chapter of said books.

Saturday: Got up at 11:30. Played around on the internet. Read my scriptures. Didn’t read anything for my classes. Ate a kebab for dinner. Watched a movie.

The Wonderful World of Academia

2009-10-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

I had my first class yesterday and it was great. While I was relieved to discover that I am not the oldest person in our program, or the only one with a grating American accent, I was less happy to discover that we have an interrupter in our class. For those of you who are not part of the discipline of history, I’ll explain a bit about the annoyingness of some historians. (Now I don’t mean to say that this can’t happen in other disciplines, but I think historians are the biggest offenders.) We have a tendency to think we’re smarter than most other people and that, as a result, we are duty-bound to share our knowledge and thus make the world a better place. That’s all fine and dandy when you’re the only historian around, but when you get a room full of us, it’s just out of control. Everyone has to try to prove how much more they know than everyone else by interrupting the presenter with snarky history comments. It’s annoying and I never do it, unless it’s absolutely necessary. Hopefully, “the interrupter” will be held at bay in future discussions. Nevertheless, I am enjoying being a part of academia once again. Even our discussion yesterday about how and what to research for our theses blew any discussion I had with my students out of the water. It makes me feel kind of cool to be walking around campus in England as a Master’s student. I’m considering wearing a tweed blazer and smoking a pipe in an effort to complete the transformation from American teacher to British student.

2009-10-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

September 16, 2009

Today was a fantastic day, partly because I got to sleep. I finally figured I should make an appearance by about 1:00. I showered in what may prove to be the one downfall of my stay here, other than the lack of a dishwasher. It was alternately freezing and scalding. I guess I don’t yet know how these English showers work. It may help me to shower quickly, though, so maybe it’s not a bad thing. After a quick lunch of a ham sandwich with the Queen’s mustard, which is delicious and very pungent, Kim and I headed into town to get my house key and do some exploring. As we walked down the street, we discovered two charity shops. I was beyond excited to have my first charity shop experience. I was not disappointed since I found something special that a member of my family might just get for the Christmas white elephant gift exchange…if they’re lucky. We then wandered onto campus and ended up gathering horse chestnuts for a game called konkers which all the English kids apparently play. You drill a hole through the nut and put a string through it then alternately try to hit the other person’s konker until one breaks off the string. Harry and Kim were kind enough to demonstrate for me later that evening. When we got home, I finished unpacking and getting arranged. Then I decided to have a quintessential English dinner, a kebab. There’s a kebab shop just down the street from us so I walked down there all by myself and got a chicken tikka kebab. It was DELICIOUS! I think I’m already addicted. Just writing about it is making my mouth water. I predict that soon the people there will not even have to ask what I’ll have. Whether that’s good news or bad, I’ll leave up to you to decide. Overall, I’m feeling very confident that I will love my life here, if I don’t freeze to death. I have a bad feeling about the state of my internal temperature, which suffers greatly throughout the Utah winter and is already suffering here. I’ve only been warm for a few hours total since I got here and most of them were while I was in my bed. Unfortunately I can’t spend all of my time there. Something drastic may have to be done. Stay tuned for further developments in Andrea’s Quest for Warmth.

And so it begins

2009-10-08T03:56:00.000-07:00

September 15, 2009 (I haven't had internet until now, so I wrote several of these entries and just saved them until I could post. That's why the date is different.)

Well, I’m here. And I love it! It took me forever to finally arrive, but once I did, I knew I had made the right choice. I even liked the bus ride from the airport. The town of Reading is lovely. Reading is a real city, in that there are not a lot of touristy things to do, but it’s also pretty. There’s a park in the middle of the city; the Thames River that runs through town; and charming, old, red brick buildings everywhere. I think it will be the perfect place to have a truly British experience. Now I just need to wander around and get my bearings. When I arrived at my house and met my roommate, I felt so relieved. Her name is Kim and she is fabulous. Her accent is classy and so is her carriage. She is from Suffolk, in the East, and is studying philosophy. Right away she made me feel welcome and comfortable. I think we’ll be good friends. I also think she’s as relieved as I am about our future together under the same roof. Once the introductions were completed, I proceeded to unpack and had a moment’s-worth of pause as it set in that I was, in fact, living in England. It passed quickly, though, so I feel hopeful that I won’t be too homesick. I did find a letter from my dad nestled in my luggage that was very sweet and managed to make me cry just a bit. Oh yeah, one thing I have to mention is that I have a wardrobe; an honest to goodness wardrobe. It even has an old-fashioned key to lock it. I believe there is a passage to another world in the back, but I haven’t had time to check that out completely. After I got everything sorted (which I have concluded means taken care of) Kim and Harry (her boyfriend,) and I went to the Tesco and I bought some cheese and onion flavored crisps (chips,) a huge loaf of fresh bread, some English mustard (which is certified by the Queen no less,) and some yogurt with mix-ins that I’m told is quite delicious. So I’m set. Later that night after dinner at Harry’s family’s house, I fell blissfully to sleep, thinking, “I successfully completed my first day in England. I totally got this.”

Here Goes Nothing!

2009-09-09T14:21:00.000-07:00

Well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my blog. I'm glad you've chosen to use your precious time to read the ramblings I post here. I hope you won't be disappointed. As you already know, I'm moving to England for a year. And yes, I am aware that people don't just do that. I thought a little bit of background might help those of you who are reading this without already knowing the whole story. Probably the most important detail necessary for understanding this choice is that I'm single. If it weren't for that, none of this would have happened. So, thank you to all those guys who passed me up. A thank you also needs to go to my friend Sara who planted the idea in my mind. She got her Master's degree at the University of Reading in a year, which led me to believe that perhaps I could too. Only time will tell. Anyway, about a year ago, I was feeling bored with my life as a teacher of Utah Studies (pretty much the most boring subject matter that exists) to 7th graders (pretty much the most exhausting group of people that exists.) I needed a change. At that point, Sara entered the picture and the seed was planted. I did a little research online and got pretty excited about the idea. I told my parents that I was thinking about going back to school. . . in England, and bless their hearts, they encouraged me! I don't think they really thought I would do it. See, I have this tendency to get great ideas of things I want to do and then I never do anything about it. I'm guessing they thought, "Here we go again. We'll just go with it until she gets tired of the idea." Turns out I actually did something about it this time. I applied to several unis (that's what they call universities in England. Just throwing in a little British flavour) and eventually settled on the University of Reading because it felt right. I hope it is.

University of Reading Great Hall. So charming.

Reading is about a half hour west of London, which means I can pop over just about any time I want. (Stay tuned for future London adventures, some of which will not be shared on this blog, as my mom will be reading it.) It's also apparently a railroad hub, which was naturally at the top of my list of important qualifications for my future hometown. The Museum of English Rural Life is also in Reading, and anyone who knows me knows I love rural life almost more than life itself. So, suffice it to say, Reading seems like a perfect fit.

Anyway, that's my story thus far. I'll be working on a Master's in Modern History, which to the historian apparently means anything from the 16th century to the present. Who knew? When I applied for the program, I erroneously interpreted "modern" to mean like 20th century to the present. Clearly someone failed me somewhere along the way. I will blame the BYU for my less-than-adequate education. Hopefully any other mistakes will be quickly remedied by my stint across the pond.