Send Her Victorious, Happy, and Glorious!

I know I’m not technically English, but I certainly felt it during last week’s Diamond Jubilee Celebration.  In my defense, it was pretty awesome.  Also, ethnically speaking, I am mostly English.  Based on that, and the fact that I would NEVER have a chance to do it again, I decided to go to London on Monday for the festivities.  My fabulous old housemate, Kim, kindly offered the services of her couch for the night and I took her up on it.  After a delicious kebab dinner that we ate on the Tube, we arrived at Hyde Park to watch the Jubilee Concert, along with thousands of our closest friends.  There were massive screens set up all over the park and people dancing and singing. It was actually pretty great. We saw Stevie Wonder, Elton John, and even Paul McCartney!  I sang and danced and felt like a proper Englishperson.  Then Prince Charles came on stage and called the Queen “mummy,” which was by far the cutest thing ever.  Afterward, we got to sing the national anthem.  I sang it with all my heart, even though I didn’t really know the words, but luckily Kim was there to supply me with the correct order of ‘gracious’ and ‘noble.’  In that moment, surrounded by a crowd singing at the top of their voices, I felt like I was one of them.  There was a sense of unity that I haven’t felt before in all of my time here.  It was very cool.  Then, to top it all off, there were fireworks…and I got to see them!  It sort of made up for missing the New Year’s Eve ones. 

The next day, I went down to central London to watch the Queen’s procession from Westminster Abbey to Buckingham Palace.  I met up with some people from Kim’s ward to head down to Trafalgar Square and I had my flag al ready to go.  They weren’t too bothered about actually seeing the procession, so I dumped them and made my way as close to the action as I could.  Turns out I should have just gone down there by myself waaaay earlier.  It was chock a block and the best spots were already taken.  Luckily, I wiggled my way over to the side and found a spot where I had a clear view of the road and turning toward Admiralty Arch.  After waiting for a couple of hours, the procession began making its way towards us.  I saw all the horses and heard the bands and strained to catch a glimpse of the coach carrying Her Royal Highness.  As the coach approached, I stretched and just barely spotted the Queen in her lovely hat.  Then I rushed over to Trafalgar Square to watch the rest of the procession on the screens.  It was brilliant.  I loved watching the masses move down the Mall, in perfect order, and wait patiently for their beloved Queen to appear.  When she finally stepped out, the cheer that erupted was amazing.  As I stood there, once again singing the national anthem, I heard the rumble of airplanes and looked up to see the planes flying directly overhead.  Apart from a peek of Lizzie herself, the flyover was my favorite part.  By that time, it had started to rain, as always, but I decided that I wanted to take advantage of being there and absorb as much of the atmosphere as I could.  I wandered down to the Mall with its Union Jacks flying and Buckingham Palace in all its majesty at the end.  It was pretty cool and I enjoyed just being there making a memory.  I still am amazed that I was there for such a once in a lifetime experience.  

Happy Wanderings

As I sit here watching football and feeling decidedly British in my allegiance, I decided that I should update this lovely old thing, even if there’s nobody that even reads it anymore.  Life in England is going really well, although I’m stating to wonder why I ever complained about not having work.  It’s just a darn good thing that I like my job.  We’ve got 5 weeks left and I just started teaching a new class on American history.  It’s been great fun teaching people who’ve never heard it before, though I must admit that my natural patriotism creeps in every now and then.  I figure they should get the full American treatment. 

Life apart from work has been fairly busy as well.  I had a lovely visit from good old Laura Lu during the Easter holiday that consisted of a few days in the Lake District (of William Wordsworth fame,) a few days in southern Scotland, a few days in Yorkshire, and a few days in London.  It was a fabulous trip, complete with hillsides covered with daffodils, just as I had always pictured them.  Scotland was rugged and beautiful, but not much different than the gorgeous landscape of my homeland.  I did, however, thoroughly enjoy the time spent in Yorkshire.  We went to the fascinating old ruined Fountains Abbey from the medieval times.  It was a Cistercian abbey until Henry VIII dissolved it and stole all its wealth.  It is fairly isolated and so remained untouched until a wealthy family bought the land and used the Abbey to stage parties and picnics.  I love the idea of some fancy-pants lady with a posh accent inviting her friends out to their country house for a picnic in the nave of a ruined cathedral.  I think it was made even more enjoyable by the fact that we were among the first people there and we had a lone wander for the first few hours.  It ranks on my list of favorite places I’ve visited in England.  London was great, as always, but was also greatly improved by the company.  We went to Kew Gardens to absorb all the springtime goodness, ate our way through Borough Market, and saw ‘Singin’ in the Rain.’  All in all, not a bad couple of weeks. 

Then the next month, I played host to Aaron and Camille who came to visit for a few days.  Unfortunately, I had to work, but we still got to spend a day amongst the treasures of the British Museum, the Imperial War Museum, and King’s Cross Station.  The following weekend I met up with them in Cheltenham, a lovely old spa town on the edge of the Cotswolds, where Aaron served for a time on his mission.  Saturday was spectacular and we decided to spend the bulk of it in the park with what seemed like everyone else in Cheltenham.  It was so nice to be together and have a proper chinwag.  The next day we went to church and met a few people Aaron had known when he was there.  We finished up the day with a drive through the Cotswolds and a delicious roast dinner.  I loved having them here and having them see where I live and meet my friends.  I wish they’d come back…we had the best weather we’ve had all year while they were here. 

P.S. The pictures are frustratingly out of order. Sorry about that.

Merry Old England

Turns out I’m pretty much the worst blogger ever. I did so great when I first moved here, but now I forget to share all the great stuff that happens because it’s just become my life.  Suffice it to say, I still live in England two and a half years later (yikes!) and I still love it here.  I especially love it in the spring. I don’t think there is anything as lovely as an English springtime.  I don’t feel the cold quite as much anymore, and I’m totally competent when it comes to knowing what to buy in the supermarket.  I can distinguish between different types of English cheese, as well as different types of English accents.  It weirds me out to see cars on the TV driving on the right side of the road and the rain hardly phases me.  I even walked all the way to the supermarket in the spitting rain yesterday without an umbrella.  I even say banahna like a proper Brit.  The ‘u’ has entered the spelling of many words and the ‘z’ has morphed to an ‘s’ in many others.

It’s strange, the process of acculturation.  There are things that I thought were so odd about England and the English people when I first got here that don’t even faze me anymore.  The fact that all the eggs in the shops are brown, that the postman doesn’t pick up your mail, and that the shops all close by 6 don’t bother me anymore.  I’ve just gotten used to it all.  I’ve found so many things that I love here, that I worry about how long it will take me to get used being back in America, once I finally decide to come back.  I don’t know what I’m going to do when I have to live without golden syrup, my electric kettle, and the glorious array of trees and flowers.  It might be harder coming home than it was coming here in the first place.  I can’t actually think about it.  It just makes me too sad.  

Back in the Saddle Again

I have now successfully completed my first half-term at my new job. I’m working at a fancy-pants girls’ grammar school in Beaconsfield, Buckinghamshire. Beaconsfield is one of the poshest areas in England, so the girls tend to be pretty posh as well. Perhaps needless to say, there has been a pretty steep learning curve. The school system here is quite different. When the kids are in their last year of primary school, they can take an exam to get into grammar school. If they pass, they’re funneled into the grammar schools, which are the best schools around. The general expectation is that grammar school students will go on to the best universities in the country and excel in everything they do. It’s a slightly different system than the good, old public schools of America that I’m used to. Added to the fact that the students are super clever, grammar schools are single-sex so there aren’t any boys around to distract them or make them feel bad if they’re smart. It’s fabulous. I think I like it even more because of the lack of all the spitting and other nightmares I had to endure as a full-time supply teacher.

Anyway, I was pretty intimidated to work there, since the girls have lofty ambitions that I could possibly destroy through my lack of knowledge of the English school system along with a general rustiness of the old teaching skills. Luckily, the person I replaced spent loads of time helping me prepare and giving me resources to use. Also, it turns out teaching is like riding a bike; once you learn, you never forget. Plus the girls are marvelous, they think I’m cool because I’m American, and they’re super keen to learn. It’s by far the easiest gig I’ve ever had as far as the classroom management is concerned. Basically it consists of an occasional well-placed look of disapproval or, as a last resort, a brief “Ladies, this is not the type of behaviour I would expect from you.” (It has to be spelled with a ‘u’ because it’s at an English school.) That is quite literally all I have to do to get things under control and that doesn’t even happen on a daily basis.

While I feel that I generally have the classroom management under control, the subject matter is another story entirely. The courses are run on a fortnightly schedule so I see each class a certain number of times over the course of the two weeks. For example, I see the year 9s twice per fortnight, while I see the year 10s and 11s five times over the same two-week period. I think it’s a lame system, but it allows the students to take a wider variety of subjects. What it also means is that I’m preparing a whole load of lessons that I may only teach once. Some days I have 5 different lessons to teach, with a different 5 lessons to teach the next day. Add to that the fact that I’m teaching subjects I’ve never taught before, like Irish history and Medieval English history, and you can see that my workload is massive. Luckily, they don’t expect me to grade nearly as much as I’m used to. That being said, I was supposed to mark a truckload of papers over Easter that I didn’t do. Oh well.

I’ve enjoyed learning new material and I feel like the girls appreciate my efforts and are engaged in the lessons. They also really like it when I say words like ‘awesome’ and ‘dude’ so I throw those in there every now and then. My fail-safe method of getting their attention and adoration is to speak in my English accent, which for some reason is exceptionally posh. It never fails to produce gales of laughter. They really are wonderful girls and I’m amazingly blessed to have a job there. The staff members have made me feel welcome and have incorporated me into their world with very little difficulty for anyone. I enjoy working there so much that I’m actually kind of excited to start back tomorrow after a two week Easter holiday. Now I just need to figure out a way to convince the teacher I replaced not to come back off maternity leave…

Worst New Year's Eve Ever

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

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

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.