The Big Day

Ahh… so the wedding day arrived.

I thought the morning was going to be lovely and relaxing, a right old pampering day for me.  What was I thinking?  This is me, I know how the rest of the wedding planning went, and it wasn’t really smooth, was it?

Nope, no wedding morning bliss for me, we had to go shopping.  Not shopping for lacy undies and bridal accessories, the nice kind of shopping, but bloody groceries!  We had to find a Costco so we could pick up beers, cakes and anything else we had forgotten – all the necessary party stuff.  Yes, we could have gone there the night before but the other half had just driven three hours to Vegas and had a cold, so you know ... men. [*sigh*]

I also remembered I was responsible for decorating the suite.  Yes, we went all fancy and a got an actual suite – mainly because we were having the reception there and thought that having people squash into a normal room would be a bit tacky, what with not being able to swing a cat and the only actual sitting area being the bed.  So decorate I did….[You might see a theme here]

Yes, I went full on American/British.

Well that all got done and I did a bit of faffing around (as you do) and suddenly it was 2:00 p.m. Oops… I had to be at the chapel at 4:00 p.m. and there I was not showered, not thinking about getting ready and actually, not doing anything.  The ‘girls’ showed up and it was mass hysteria for a full on two hours!  Can you imagine, five women, one tiny girl and a 6 year old boy who insisted on taking photographs of everybody and everything every twenty seconds.  Not the calmest of places in the world.

I was stressing, crying, laughing and crying some more.  Then I started shouting at everyone and at that moment, I realized it was probably time for me to leave.  Actually it was past the time I should have left  as it was now gone 4:00 p.m. and I was late.

I jumped in the lift and ran through the hotel to the chapel.  Thank God I wasn’t in all my finery as I ran around a corner smack dab into my husband-to-be and all his groomsmen who were supposed to be there 20 minutes after me.  [another oops moment].

Finally making it, I was calmed down and shoved into a dressing room, which in all honesty was a bit fab.  Private toilet, lots of mirrors, perfumes, powders and potions and my dress and shoes were there ready for me.  The only thing missing was a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of tequila, which in hindsight would have probably been a disaster.   Oh, and it turns out my shoes were actually too big and I had to stuff the toes with toilet roll – very classy!  Thank goodness I didn’t opt for open toed shoes.  [*smiles*]

Eventually everyone got there, final primping was done, pre-wedding photographs were taken and it was time to get this thing going.  Obviously, I was still bawling and shaking like a leaf, which made my dad tear up and we both ended up walking down the aisle with wadded up tissues – again, quite classy.

Then, in what felt like twenty seconds, it was all over and I was a married lady.  I’m sure it was longer than that, but who knows?  It was Las Vegas after all.

At about that time we all subconsciously let our breath out and the party began.

Do I look happy? (that it's all over)

I’ve now been married for six weeks (not that I’m counting or anything) and for the lack of something better to say and not really wanting to sound like a McDonald’s advert…. I’m Loving It!!

Sticking to my roots!

No Wedding Cake for Me!

Is it too late to change the theme of the wedding only one month before the ceremony?

I asked this question to my other half and he mumbled something about “Whatever floats your boat.” I have the distinct impression he doesn’t care one way or another. [*sigh*]

What prompted this?  Well, I was talking to my sister the other day and she asked me about our wedding cake and I told her I wasn’t having one and she was quite shocked.  When I told her why, she understood entirely.  It’s because of this:

Photo by wedding photographer Babs Evangelista.

This is the most godawful, crazy, terrible American tradition which would be right up the Mr’s alley. He would love nothing better than to smash cake into my face, the joker that he is.  Can you imagine how you would feel on the best day of your life with perfect makeup and hair and a (probably quite expensive) wedding dress and then some bugger smashes cake all over you?  Not a pleasant thought and I just don’t understand the American idea that your day is not complete until you have cake in your hair!

Obviously, it got me thinking.  A traditional British wedding cake with fruitcake and Royal icing couldn’t be smooshed onto me (without fear of knocking me out) so maybe…..

A search of the internet did not bring up any English cake makers in Los Angeles, obviously, but I did find a whole heap of British-American themed wedding ideas on Pinterest (Yes, I’ve been sucked into there also) and now I want to change my theme, not that I actually had one, mind you.  I want British-American Save-the-Dates and invitations [oops, too late], a Union Jack wedding dress [definitely too late] and a cake.  The Mr. is just taking it all in, knowing I’m dreaming and rolling his eyes!

But really, how could he not absolutely love one of these??  [*grin*]

The American Office

So you’ve decided to move to America, get a job and live your life in the sun. Fine, but what about when you actually start work? [I’m talking about in an office here]  Do you really know what you’re getting yourself into? I thought so too, I mean, how hard can it possibly be? Americans speak English, so there’s absolutely no problem.  How wrong I was.  

I have commented a little on this before in this post HERE.

Computer keyboards and spelling were the very least of my problems, I quickly found out. Walking into an American office is like being in a whole new world. They’ve got their own words for absolutely everything. Here are a few:

CV aka Curriculum Vitae:    You won’t be providing your CV at a job interview, you will have to have a Resumé. Of course, it’s basically the same thing, but you know those crazy Americans!  In my experience, the only people who have a Curriculum Vitae are doctors, because apparently they are special.

Pay Rise:    It might take you a while to get one, but if you are going to ask for one, don’t forget to ask for a Raise.  I’m sure you will be understood, but you really don’t want to chance it, do you?

Make Redundant:    There’s always the possibility that if you ask for too many raises, you will be Laid Off, which I don’t actually think is a reason you can be sacked (Fired or Dismissed), but you never know.

Square Brackets:    Sounds simple enough, but not in the good old USA.  Square brackets are known as Brackets. Somewhat confusing,  but what makes it worse is to us Brits, [these] are "square brackets," and (these) are “brackets” - to Americans [these] are “brackets” and (these) are “parentheses”.  I was once very confused about all this. I was working as a medical transcriptionist the first time I ever heard anyone say 'parentheses.' I had to ask what he was saying because I thought it was some terrible disease.  [true story]

Curly Braces:    Yes, of course there’s a different name for {these} too.  They are just Braces.

Sellotape:    Although this is the largest manufacturer of sticky tape in the UK, apparently they haven’t reached America.  Scotch Tape is the biggest seller here, so that’s what it’s called.  

Tippex:    The same can be said about Tippex.  Try asking for it here and you will get a blank stare. Probably the same kind of stare you would get from someone who’s been sniffing the stuff. [It does smell nice though, doesn’t it?]  It’s called Liquid Paper here (a bit obvious, if you ask me) Apparently, so the rumour goes, it was invented by the mum of one of the Monkees.  Ask anyone here and they will tell you so.

The original 'old school' bottle

Tick:    You know, the thing you use when you’re taking a multiple choice test and you have to a tick the right answer.  If someone in America asks you to check the box, don’t be looking around the room for the box they want you to check.  A check or check-mark is really a tick.

Drawing-Pin:    This one actually makes a bit of sense.  Thumb-tack does actually describe it a bit better, after all you don’t actually draw with a drawing pin, do you?

Bank Holiday:    Those days that you count down to on the calendar because you get a day off work and can drink.  In America, it’s just called a holiday even though the banks are, actually, closed too. Mind you, just because it’s on the calendar, doesn’t mean you will be lucky enough to have the day off.  A lot of holidays are not recognized by everyone.

Holiday:    You know, the fortnight in the summer that you also count down to.  It’s a vacation here and it never seems to be two weeks.  It is quite frowned upon to actually take a whole two weeks off at the same time. You seem to have to take a week here and there or a Monday or Friday for a long weekend.

Guillotine:    This has to be the best sounding piece of office equipment ever, doesn’t it?  Just makes you think of all those heads falling into baskets.  The first time I asked for one here, I got looked at like I could be an axe murderer. You want a what?? What are you going to do, are you angry at someone? Nope, I just need to cut some paper, please.  Oh, the disappointment when I found out it was called a Paper Cutter.  How dreadfully boring! (but also a bit obvious)

Not exactly what I was looking for

Oh, and just so you know, all offices look like this - the cubicle nightmare:

No, I am not kidding. (Okay, maybe I might be).

Let me know if you have heard any other weird/different names for everyday office stuff .

Oh Good Grief - It's National Hugging Day!

Today in America it’s National Hugging Day… yes, you did read that right, it’s a day that celebrates hugging. [*shudders*]

I can hear all British expats in the USA right now actually cringing.  This is going to be a day to stay in bed, I think, or at least not venture out of the house just in case you are suddenly accosted by some random stranger who wants to hug you.  [*gulp*]  How absolutely appalling.

This is just Not British!  I don’t understand why there needs to be a whole day of celebration and I’m sure I’m not the only one with that British aversion to hugging.  Why hug when a good old “How do you do?” and perfectly fine handshake will suffice.  But then Americans find us a bit standoffish and rude if we don’t hug.  

It has taken me a long time to get used to the fact that I will be hugged whether I like it or not.  To compound the fact, my fiancé is in a motorcycle club and their culture is to take anyone into an embrace or bear hug to say hello.  For the first few years, I would stand stiffly with my hands at my sides and kind of grimace.  It was a bit like being hugged by an ancient uncle whom you had never met, who kind of smelled like mothballs, and clutched you to his chest a wee bit long for your liking. So very uncomfortable.

I have tended to get over my phobia a little though, I pretty much had to, being around bikers so much.  I was once informed I was a bit of a snooty b*tch, to which my only reply was, “Well, I’m English, that’s how we are.”  [Sorry England]

So true!

So I’m just going to say once and for all “I’m sorry America that I don’t hug as much as you would like, go ahead and have your Hugging Day, but please, please, please do NOT include me!” [and certainly don't try to touch me]

Thank you.

6 Sneaky American Words that have fallen into my vocabulary

Good – instead of nice.  I was once asked by a co-worker why I always said food was 'nice' instead of good. I’d never really thought about it before because everything was either nice or horrible. Somehow it’s stuck in my head and now every time, every flippin' time I think food is lovely I say “Ooh, this is good!”  Grrr…..

Dude - A terrible word, but I will admit that I only ever use it in a derogatory manner, usually while driving. i.e. Dude, move your F*cking arse!  or Dude, you drive like an idiot!  [Yes, terribly British]

Cute -  Yes, I know we use this in England, but usually for a puppy or a baby.  In America, it's for just about everything.  "Oh you look cute" people say... what, do I look like a puppy?  "Oh, what a cute car" they say... when you know they really mean wow, your car is tiny, how do you actually get in it??   But again, this one is stuck in my vocabulary.  I try really hard to use a different word but then there's a pause while I'm thinking, which tends to make it sound like "Oh you look...um...cute?" which really is not a compliment, to be honest.

Son of a Gun - Okay, I will admit I hardly ever say this because it's so awful. (And it's more a phrase than a word).  The reason I put it in is because I actually said it, out loud, today!  I was trying to get a packet of crisps out of the vending machine and they got stuck (*sad face*). Of course, my first thought was an expletive but I realized a boss was in the room so obviously I couldn't say what I wanted and went with "Arghh - Son of a Gun!"  I kind of surprised myself and I'm sure my face was a picture when I realized what I'd actually said!

Ladybug - I’m not sure why it’s called a bug, although I suppose technically it is a bug, but that just sounds like it would be a nasty creepy crawly… Ladybird sounds so much nicer, doesn’t it?  But to be honest, it’s not really a bird either is it?

But Ladybug has come into my vocabulary somehow and without thinking, that’s what I always say, but I mostly correct my self straight away.  And I wouldn’t even dream of singing “Ladybug, Ladybug fly away home..”  It’s just not right!

Soccer - I think this is the word that annoys me the most… Ugh… soccer [Actually pronounced in the US as Saaakkkerrr!!]  Pretty much most of the time, when I use this one, I follow up by saying “You know, real football.”  (*grins*)

Does anyone else have a problem with this?  What words annoy you that you can't help saying? Discuss.....

The Passive Aggressive

Give me my pills...!!

Today I had to pick up a prescription at the pharmacy (chemist) and when I arrived there were already two people in line.  They had obviously been there a while because the pharmacist had a blank look on his face and kept rolling his eyes. 

The problem.... they were chatting.  Not just any old chat, mind you.  This is where I came in...

Mum 1:          ... yes, they keep getting ear infections and nothing helps ...

Mum 2:        [Interrupting] Oh, mine used to get those all the time...

Mum 1:       ... they had to have the surgery, with the tube thingies in their ears, and they were only TWO, both of them had to have the same thing

Mum 2:        Yes, mine had that too.  But luckily at his age he only gets sick about once a year now

["He" was standing right next to her and she was talking as if he wasn't even there]

Mum 1:        Does it get better as they get older?  We only manage to go on date night once a month now and I keep telling my husband it will be better when they get older..

Mum 2:        Well mine's in a travel hockey team and we have to go all over the state, so we don't get date night either

Mum 1:        So it doesn't get any better?  I've got girls, so they won't be into sports hopefully, but they will want to do dancing, so it will be the same thing, I expect.  But we love football, so I wish I had a boy, we will just have to put up with dancing...

Mum 2:         You poor thing....

Blah, blah, blah...


chat or gossip?

About this time, I was feeling somewhat annoyed and obviously did what any true English person would do.... I tutted and sighed.  I also texted the whole conversation to a friend telling her how mad I was.... because, you know .....English....

It went on for at least another couple of minutes, before the pharmacist gave a polite cough to encourage Mum 1 to pay and, well, basically, get out!  (Apparently he has some Brit in him too)

I'm sure this same thing happens in England all the time, but it dawned on me that we just don't ever speak up for want of looking rude.  Heaven forbid that we should make a scene. 

So I did the obvious thing, I came home and ranted on here.  Passive Aggressive at it's best. 

Thank you, rant over.... you can resume your normal business now.

At The Beach - In January!!

I have a dog and a pool - what could be more perfect I hear you say?  That dog has the best life in the world, his very own pool where he can swim and play and keep cool in the 100+ degree heat in the California summer.

Well actually no. I think I have the only dog in Southern California that will not, under any circumstances, get into that pool.  We've tried to coax him in with toys and snacks, (yes, soggy dog biscuits), we've splashed him and he loves playing that game as long as he doesn't get too wet and we've even tried to push him in or pick him up and throw him in (that was a mistake, just ask my daughter - she still has the scars).  So how do you get a 95 pound pitbull into the pool - you don't. You just give up and move along, it's never going to happen.

So this last weekend we went to the local dog beach as the weather was slightly warmer than the last couple of weeks and it was the last day before getting back to work properly after the New Year.  (*sigh*)

Of course, as the dog doesn't like the water we didn't take a towel or blanket.  Well, that was a flippin' mistake.  Would you believe it - that flamin' dog saw the water and took a flying leap right into the waves... I would have bet money against him dipping even a toe in the water, let alone actually going in up to his neck! Typical.  

 

We had a brilliant time - not as good a time as Charlie mind you.  Somebody even gave him a tennis ball and we spent an hour or so throwing it into the sea for him to fetch.  But that stubborn dog would drop it just before he got out of the sea so someone (me) had to wade in and get it... And there goes a lovely pair of boots! I know he does that on purpose just for his amusement.

 

But getting to the whole point of this ramble, have you noticed the date... It was January 4th - yes JANUARY and I was At. The. Beach. 

I can't think of a time I ever went to the beach before at least June or July whilst in England.  No flippin' way it would have been well cold.  And obviously, it's usually still cold in June and July ...

So here's to a whole new year living in sunny, but slightly windy, California where you can go to the beach any day you jolly well want to... And you can't get better than that can you?

Happy Dog, Happy New Year

Happy New Year!

Tomorrow is the ‘big day’ all around the world (at different times, obviously), but woo hoo it’s New Years Eve - the night of massive parties, celebration, lots of drinking and dancing drinking into the early morning.

Unless you are in America, that is…

One thing I have noticed is that American’s don’t really know how to party.  Now, I’ve never been to New York on New Years Eve, so it might be different on the east coast, but here in California it’s a bit of a dud.  In the last 20 years, I’ve been to a few New Years’ parties, but what really surprises me is that as soon as midnight strikes people generally say “Happy New Year” and then GO HOME!! Yes, really, midnight is not the start of the party like it is in England.  It’s most definitely the end. And that is if most people haven’t gone home well before midnight “to avoid the traffic and all the crazy drunk drivers.”  Party poopers!

But there are fireworks if you can get them (although illegal in most parts of California, people still manage to find them).  Then there are the guns.... people with guns who like to shoot into the air! You don't really want to be outside at the stroke of midnight for fear of being hit by a bullet falling from the sky.  

As we know, in England the whole of the country listens to Big Ben chime midnight to bring in the new year, but at least the whole country is in the same time zone.  What amazes me about living on the west coast is that Los Angeles does not have it’s own countdown clock.  Just before midnight the telly is turned on so everyone can watch the countdown and the ‘ball drop' in New York - which was recorded Three Hours earlier! I assume this is repeated a few times across the country in all the different time zones!  Just weird… and nobody cares!

It's a ball on a stick!

These are only my observations - perhaps the party in Vegas is a night long event, but the average Californian party in someone's house is not.

But I must admit, the best bit of living in California is that I get two New Years celebrations.  If I can manage to get to an English pub or bar as everyone gets to celebrate (and drink, of course) at 4:00 p.m. Because obviously, we have to celebrate with home ... Absolutely brilliant!  

So to everyone who reads the blog I would like to say HAPPY NEW YEAR wherever you are and however you celebrate.  

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Halloween USA Style

Halloween - Its a BIG deal

In October of 1994, we moved into our first house is the USA and our furniture had just arrived from England. We hadn’t brought our worn out three piece suite or our UK television, so we didn’t have any living room furniture at all.  So, by Halloween, the front door still opened into an empty room.  It looked like we were going for the empty, haunted house look - perfect!

Not my house

Having grown up in England where the only notable thing that happened on October 31st was my friend’s birthday, I’m not sure we were entirely ready for Halloween.  We’d seen the films, of course, and hoped that Michael Myers didn’t live in our neighbourhood.   I knew the children (and apparently teenagers after 9:00 p.m.) dressed up and went door to door “Trick or Treating” with a bucket or in some cases a pillowcase (greedy) collecting sweets, or “candy.”

My son was around 8 at that time and wanted to trick or treat with his new friends, so it was just my daughter and I at home that night.  We were ready, we were prepared, we had a couple of bags of sweets to give out, we had the lights on inside and out, I got a dining room chair and put it by the front door and we waited for the first children to arrive.   And did they arrive!!!

One after the other, in droves, with parents, without parents, babies in pushchairs (why would babies need candy?) and the costumes - from Disney characters and superheroes, to vampires and zombies we saw them all.  One notable costume and one which was my daughters favourite was a tiny little baby in a Tweety Pie costume.  That baby’s probably around 22 now and might really want to forget it, bless.  Some parents are very inventive with their costumes and I'm sure some of those babies might grow up to hate their parents for the indignities handed out.  For example - this one ..

Bless!

So anyway, there we were, giving out handfuls of sweets to every child and about an hour in I realized that we weren’t going to have enough. We had been willynilly throwing handfuls into each bucket and I thought the children were really nice when they were saying “Wow, thank you”  Look at me, I thought, I must have the best sweets on the street.  Nope, it was that they couldn’t believe I was so generous and I have since learned that they get ONE each…. Yes only one!!

Only ONE each!

So Plan B went into action – one sweet each and if possible, only pretend to put a sweet in their bucket.  Yes, this sounds like a terrible plan and it actually was…. I still remember the angry look I got from one little boy who knew I hadn’t put anything into his pillowcase and I stood there looking at him, daring him to tell me he knew – bad karma, I know (*cringe*)  I only tried it that once though – I couldn’t handle the guilt.

And throughout all this, every time I opened the front door, the first thing those little kids saw was an empty room.  I did get quite a few questioning looks that night and think I might have scared some of them actually.

And what do you do when you run out of candy?  Well, you close the door, turn out the lights and pretend you’re not home.  But that doesn’t actually work.  It seems those flippin’ kids will knock on every door in their hunt for sugar!  And then, as it got later, the children got bigger.  I was opening the door to teenagers, some of whom even had mustaches – and not the stick on kind.  Surely there should be an age limit to trick or treating?  My daughter and I eventually had to go and sit in a back bedroom because, quite frankly, she was getting scared (she was only 2.5) of all the big monsters knocking on the door.

Nowadays, I end up having way too much candy and I tend to buy what I like and fortunately, I now live in a neighbourhood where there aren’t so many children.  But then, I end up eating ALL of the sweets myself.  Not such a good idea after all!

Not Quite English

Last weekend, my daughter and I went on another brunch quest looking for a little bit of England in California.  This time, we tried Lucky Baldwins, a ‘British Pub & Café’ in Pasadena.  They have three locations and apparently have been there some 18 years, so it should be great, right?

First of all, we got there a bit late for breakfast and/or brunch.  It was around noon, which in theory should still be time for brunch, but whatever.  The actual menu was very patriotic, Union Jacks all over it, but that’s pretty much where it ended.  The only two items of a British nature that I could see were a bacon and egg breakfast sandwich (American bacon, Irish bacon for an extra charge) and a full English (an extra charge for crumpets instead of toast).   Oh, I could have had a cup of PG Tips too.

Very patriotic

Of course, we ordered one of each (with Irish bacon and crumpets).  Hannah had the breakfast sandwich which had a lovely runny egg and a couple of bits of bacon.  This would have been a great breakfast if you had made it at home, but in a restaurant you would expect a little bit more on the plate – even a bit of dead cabbage for garnish would have made it look a bit fancier.  But she said it was lovely, even though she thought she could have eaten another one!

That's it?

I had the full English - bacon, sausage, two eggs over easy, (I still can't figure out what I am supposed to ask for here, but over easy seemed to be okay this time), baked beans (Heinz), mushrooms, fried tomato - Mmmm, lovely jubbly.... but then there was also that potato/pepper/onion mixture that seems to be a standard in American breakfasts - FAIL! Gentlemen, this is most definitely NOT an English breakfast requirement!

What is that potato stuff??  Definitely not English!

The sausage was lovely, as were the mushrooms and beans.  The eggs were runny enough and the (tiny bit of) bacon was nice.  But then there were the crumpets.  The waiter (who was new on the job, he said), didn't know what a crumpet was, but I assured him they were on the menu and I could have them instead of toast,  Well, when I got them, they looked (and tasted) like they had been heated up in a microwave.  They were rubbery like they had just come out of the packet, no crispy bits on the bottom and not only that, I didn't get any bloomin' butter, just a little pot of lemon curd.  In all my years, I have never eaten crumpets with lemon curd (and no butter), but there's a first time for everything, as they say, and I tried.  But quite frankly, it was pretty blah.

Hmmm....a bit bland

I'm not saying I'm Egon Ronay or that I work for the Michelin Guide, but I was just a little, well, disappointed with the food.

But, I'm sure if we had got there earlier when the Premier League football was on, the place would have been bursting at the seams with all the Chelsea fans watching Frank Lampard put a goal past his old club, much to his dismay.   It probably would have felt a lot more "British."

Unfortunately, by the time we got there they were showing American Football and we were sitting at a table next to the most annoyingly loud and obnoxious person ever (yes, really loud and really obnoxious). But I'm sure he might have said the same thing had he been there for the 'real' football and sat among a load of boisterous and, some would say also obnoxious, English footie supporters.

I might be being a bit harsh, the waiter was new and we were surrounded by Yanks watching American Football.  Not exactly a definitive British experience.  We were on the patio also - maybe inside it was decorated extremely English.  I am not ruling out ever going there again, so who knows. Watch this space (as they say)..... *smile*

The County Fair Experience

Something we don't have in England, which apparently happens all over America is the County Fair.  I think there are even State Fairs, but I'm not sure what the difference is - can anyone tell me?

Our local County Fair always opens on Labor Day weekend and we always manage to go that first weekend.

Now these Fairs are nothing like any fair ever in England.  They are massive and while ‘fair’ in England usually means a few rides (the Waltzer, Octopus and Big Wheel to recall a few) and some sideshows (darts, goldfish and ducks on hooks come to mind) on a muddy common in the summer, in America it means a total over indulgence of everything.  As we know, they like to do everything BIGGER here, including the Fair.

From the moment you walk through the gate your senses are assaulted from all side with smells, colours, noise….. Buildings are chockablock with people selling anything from Shamwow’s and sewing machines to solar panels and shower heads.  You name it, you can probably find it for sale here.  (In our experience some good, some, well… not so good)

It's hard to describe what it actually is - is it a market or shopping experience?

Maybe it's a circus

Maybe it's a funfair as we know it

 

Oh, no thank you!

And again I say, No thank you!

Or whatever the heck this is:

What the??

But after all that, you get to the main event, the part which everyone, apparently, is here for.  It’s a non-stop party of alcohol and food.  Yes you can walk around drinking beer and cocktails (and who wouldn’t, quite honestly).  But the biggest and some say best part of the fair is the gastronomical delight of fried food.  Absolutely anything you can think of can be, and will be, deep fried.  I heard a rumour there would be deep fried Doritos this year, but I didn’t find any.  Deep fried fried foods… wow! 

Drinkies - don't mind if I do!

Start off slowly - vegetables first (ignore the cheescake)

Bacon and more bacon - I sense a theme...

If you can leave the Fair without being sick in a bin, then you are a brilliantly fantastic person, with a stomach of iron.  I'm not saying I've ever been sick in a bin, (well not at the Fair anyway) but I have gone home with my jeans undone once or twice.