The Military Diet Experiment

In a couple of months, we're going on a cruise and as you do, I looked in the mirror the other day and thought “Blimey, I need to go on a diet!”  I’m not sure I actually do, but I feel and look heavier than I feel comfortable with.  Probably because of married bliss and eating a lot of chocolate, to be honest.

Anyway, I decided I needed to do something that wasn’t Weight Watchers because quite honestly, I don’t want to pay to diet.  It’s bad enough starving yourself, let alone paying for the privilege.

After doing my research (i.e. scrolling through Facebook) one diet in particular caught my eye – The Three Day Military Diet.  Sounds a bit strict, although the gossip was that you could would lose 10 pounds in three days!  Sign me up….. Okay, I actually didn’t have to sign up because its something you do on your own, although there is a menu you have to stick to religiously, or militarily if you prefer. Three days?  How easy is that, I thought.  No problem, I can do three days….

You don't have to wear the uniform, by the way

DAY ONE

Breakfast

You’re not supposed to substitute anything unless it’s on their list, but I only decided to do this after I'd eaten breakfast and I'd already had a glass of orange juice and some toast, so I skipped the grapefruit and had a cup of tea and a spoonful of hummus instead.  Let me just say right here, hummus on its own is bloody awful.  I had substituted it for peanut butter because, well, eww..  

Lunch

This wasn’t bad.  A nice cuppa and some tuna on toast.  Although, the tuna would have been better with a dollop of dressing because it was as dry as the Serengeti in a heatwave.  Thank goodness for the tea.

Dinner

I could get used to this as it seems like a lot of food.  I had chicken with the green beans and then enjoyed the ice cream with the fruit.  I was a bit stuffed actually.

DAY TWO

Breakfast

Uh oh, the portions are getting smaller.  But when I’m at work I don’t usually eat breakfast so having a boiled egg on toast was a bit of a luxury really.  It kept me full until lunch anyway.

Lunch

Bloody hell, another hard boiled egg.  I’m sure my co-workers loved me that day.  [I never did admit it was my stinky eggs smelling up the kitchen] I substituted Greek yoghurt instead of cottage cheese. [what, even, the hell is that stuff??]  The five tiny saltine crackers went well with the egg though.  I actually couldn’t eat all of the yoghurt, maybe because it was sitting in my stomach like, well I don’t know what it was like, I’ve never eaten that much Greek yoghurt in my life and a cup is a LOT.

Dinner

This one looks small, but it wasn’t actually bad.  I cut everything up into slices and had as much broccoli and carrots as I could fit into a cup (not much, by the way).  The hotdogs gave some flavour. And then there was at least ice cream for pudding.

DAY THREE

Yes, actually, that is a wine stain on my menu

Breakfast
Again, this was a bit of a treat having breakfast.  But then again, maybe I was just starving by then.

Lunch
Yes, another hard boiled egg, but this time only with a dry slice of toast.  Yummy (sarcasm added)

A quick aside here:

I had been weighing myself daily – yes for all of two days – and the weight was falling off.  Okay, I lied, after starving myself for two day I had lost 2 pounds.  Yes, you did read that right, TWO WHOLE BLOODY POUNDS!!  

Dinner

Soooo, I may have cheated a little bit because, well, who can live on half a tin of dry tuna, half a banana and a bit of ice cream.  So I made myself some Thai curry with rice and papadums and a huge glass of wine.  (I know papadums  don’t go with Thai food, don’t judge me I was starving, okay). I may also have had a packet of crisps, a hotdog bun and possibly some chocolate, not necessarily in that order.

I went to bed that night fuller than I had in three days and when I woke up the next morning, I was really surprised not to find 8 pounds of fat in the bed next to me because according to this diet plan you will lose 10 pounds.  I jumped onto the scale and yes I had still only lost 2 pounds.  Actually, I hadn’t lost anything because I put it all back on in that one meal the night before. [*sigh*]

So the moral of this story is that unless you constantly eat and gain weight every day, don’t do the Military Diet, it does not flamin’ work.  I followed it to a “T” and all I got was starving hungry.

I just suffered for three two and a half days and lost about the same amount as if I’d just had a big pooh!!

Wedding Traditions - UK v. USA

I know I’ve been beating this topic to death recently, but I promise this will be the last mention of weddings… no, really, it will.

I recently came across an infographic showing the differences between American and English weddings.  I hadn’t really thought too much about it while planning my own, I just knew what I wanted and, well, went for it.

Starting at the beginning:

The Engagement:

In the United Kingdom, apparently the average length of an engagement is between 16 months and 2 years.  In America, it’s only 13 to 18 months.  Personally, mine was about 6 or 7 years!  We Brits like to make sure we’ve got it right, I think.  

Just after I was engaged, I was constantly asked “So, when’s the big day?” and I didn’t have an answer.  Just because you’re engaged, in my opinion, doesn’t mean you have to rush off down the aisle.  I’ve worked with people who have been engaged and married within a year.  As soon as that ring passed the knuckle, the cash register started ringing and there was no holding back.  

The Cost:

According to a survey by The Wedding Secret, the average cost of a wedding in England is £21,000 [$27,300].  Quite pricey.  In the USA the average is $32,641.

Note:  This is the average price - I've seen quite a few that have cost a whole lot more!

[I would like take this moment to point out to my hubby that he got a bargain and I am rather thrifty, contrary to what he may believe.]

PRE-PRE-WEDDING

Ahh, the fancy named “Bridal Shower” where basically you invite as many people as you can to your house (or some other lush location) and ask them to bring presents.  Usually, its just women who go to these things.  I’ve never been to one myself, but apparently weird games are played which may involve wrapping the bride-to-be in toilet roll to make a wedding dress.  A bit odd really.  I think it’s just an excuse to get early wedding presents if you ask me.  Hopefully, alcohol is provided, because I couldn’t imagine going to one if there wasn’t.  

I’ve been away from England for too long to know if there is such a thing there, but I’m sure it’s gradually sneaking over.

No, just no!

PRE-WEDDING

UK – The Hen Night

Basically a big 'girl’s night out' which may, or may not, involve loads of alcohol and scantily clad men (aka male strippers).  Also, there may be a pub crawl.  On second thoughts, there will definitely be alcohol.  There will probably be some crying, throwing up and declarations of love to the bride-to-be (and quite possibly to the aforementioned strippers)

Classy English!

USA – The Bachelorette Party

While I’ve never actually been to one, I’ve heard they are quite similar, although pubs aren't really involved.  They get a bit more expensive too as they tend to be at fancy places like wineries (possibly in a limo) and there may also be a whole weekend away.  There also always seems to be a 'theme' and everyone has to dress the same.  The Maid of Honour and bridesmaids have to pay.

Always a bit matchy-matchy

I didn’t have either – although I’m thinking a pub crawl would have been nice, but living in the USA pubs are few and far between and definitely there are not enough to crawl to.

THE CEREMONY

UK

• The groom has his back to the congregation and does not get to watch the bride walk down the aisle, so it's a bit of a surprise when she gets there.
• The bride walks down the aisle before her bridesmaids (otherwise how will someone hold her train?)
• The wedding party (i.e. bridesmaids, etc) sit down with the congregation during the ceremony.

Bridesmaids definitely behind the bride

USA

• The groom faces the congregation so he can watch the bride walk down the aisle and presumably notice if she falls on her face.
• The bride walks down the aisle after the bridesmaids.  (Then who holds the aforementioned train?)
• The wedding party stands for the entire ceremony.

THE RECEPTION

UK

The sit down meal is the main point of the day.  Getting a fancy meal you don’t have to pay for, makes it all worth while.  Not until later, after the speeches are complete and the cake is cut does anyone get up and dance.  I’m wondering if this is, in fact, because nobody wants to make a fool of themselves until they’ve had a couple of glasses of wine?  You know, British reserve and all that.

USA

As soon as the bride and groom enter the dining room, they have to dance.  They don’t even get a chance for a quick swig of champagne.  Everyone has to wait until they’re finished until the meal is served, which tends to be a lot shorter than those in the UK.  Many people actually get up and dance between courses (the cheek of it!).  

THE CAKE

UK

British wedding cakes are traditionally made of fruit cake and are tiered with anything from one tier to pretty much as many as your baker can get to balance.  Three seems to be the magic number though.  Each tier has little pillars holding each layer.  Obviously, butter icing is not a thing.  Nice hard Royal icing holds the shape.  

Very 1970's style

USA

Most American cakes are made of sponge with butter icing (or frosting) and are ‘stacked’ which pretty much means they are just put on top of each other.  Then there’s the awful tradition of feeding each other a piece of cake, which invariably ends up being smooshed into someone’s face.  [see this post here for my views on that malarkey]

Clearly, I am generalizing here and not everyone has a massive wedding, but if you want to go traditional and all out, then you might want to get saving your pennies because wherever you live, it’s going to cost a bob or two.

My wedding was in no way what you would call “traditional” being in Las Vegas, but I did sneak in a little bit of jolly old England.  I changed the wording to the old fashioned Church of England vows which include “love, honour and obey” and you can imagine what reaction I got to that little word. [*smile*].  

I’m just an old fashioned romantic at heart.  

The San Bernardino Shooting

This was not the blog post I was going to write today, but circumstances changed.  

I’m not going to get into the gun control debate because there’s enough of that already.  

This is just what happened to me yesterday.

Well yesterday was a bit out of the ordinary for an English girl.  Unfortunately not so much for many Americans though.  I work in San Bernardino, just around the corner from the building where the so called "mass shooting" took place.  

At around 11 a.m. an email was sent to us saying 'active shooting' and stay in the building. Obviously no more work was accomplished that morning (or the remainder of the day actually).  People began watching news reports on their computer so we could see exactly where it was happening and we were quite shocked when we saw just how close it was.  

Reports kept coming through of how many people had been killed and then we got another email which said 'Meeting in conference room immediately'. [A bit ominous]  We were told the 'situation' was being monitored and we were welcome to go home if we wanted to - however, they would not advise it as the building was on lockdown and the shooters had not been apprehended.  We could leave AT OUR OWN RISK.  Well, what a choice... Sit at your desk all day wondering if you would ever get to go home or take your life into your hands and try and get to your car!  Very reassuring, I must say.

I lasted a couple more hours before I decided to go home - because quite frankly being at home on the sofa is better than even the best day at work really.  

Walking from the building to my car had my heart beating quite fast.  I could see my little Mini from the door, but it felt like it was a mile away.  The car park was deserted and there was not a security guard in sight - I think they had all bolted at the first sign of trouble to be honest.

What didn't help was as soon as I walked out the door and was out in the open police sirens broke the silence with screeching and revving engines very close by.  Needless to say I nearly wee'd myself.  I didn't want to run to my car as that would make me look silly, [also I didn't want to draw attention to myself] so I speed(?) walked and jumped in, locked the door and took a deep breath.  Phew.

As I drove to the entrance driveway the sirens got closer and police cars flew past on the freeway.  A Twitter alert came in saying there was now a car chase with shots fired.  Oh bloody hell, I thought, I should have stayed at my desk!

The town was pretty much deserted and I got home in record time, which was nice.  

What really amazed me (but probably shouldn't) was the amount of rumour and paranoia during the day. Work colleagues were freaking out in case we “were next”, there were said to be gunmen running amok in all directions, some were posting on Facebook that they could see it all happening outside the window which they clearly couldn’t – the building is 1.1 miles away and unless you’ve got super x-ray vision and can see through buildings and around corners, there’s no way.  Yes, we could hear the police and see all the helicopters, but that’s about it.  I work on the sixth floor and as I wandered around, even going to the fifth floor, all doors were closed and locked tight.  Some had notes saying if you wanted to get in, you should phone them.  Never mind the fact that the main doors to the building were locked and nobody could get in, let alone up in the lift to a random floor in the building.  I know I probably sound like a right uncompassionate cow, but I will admit it was a bit scary, to be sure.

It did make me reminisce for the good old days growing up just outside London when the only thing we had to be worried about, terrorist wise, was the IRA.  Granted you never knew when a bomb would go off, but when they did, at least there weren’t nutters running around with guns shooting at everyone.  They were already back in Ireland.

The IRA blew up the pub round the corner from my Nan's house

The world has become a very crazy place and this was just a bit too close for my liking!

Why Blog?

I initially started this blog on a slow day at work (did I say that out loud?)… I was bored and had been talking to a friend who blogged and thought “Why not?  I'm sure I can do that.”  Pretty much anyone I moaned to was fed up listening to my reminisces, memories and comparisons of England, so this was the ideal outlet for my “creative juices” or “moody cow whining” however you want to look at it. But some of the best things have happened because of this blog:

Reconnecting

I have been able to reconnect with people I haven’t seen for over 30 years (Good grief, has it been 30 years!) Although this isn’t technically true in all senses of the word as Facebook has played a part too, I was recently chatting with an old friend via Facebook and he mentioned his brother also lives in California and he would be visiting and would I like to meet up.  Well, of course I bloody would.  

The day came and he gave me a ring to arrange to meet.  I was totally taken aback when he said he would come to my house – I’m so used to the American culture of always meeting for dinner, lunch or the like and really never going to someone’s house.  Obviously right then the conversation went typically British.  “Oh” I said, “You’ll have to excuse the state of the house, we’ve just got a new puppy and it’s a bit of a mess.”   To which he replied “Don’t be silly, we’re coming to see you, not the house.”   How refreshingly polite.

Obviously, I rushed home and tidied up, as you do, and put the kettle on.  The visit was brilliant, even more so when he presented me with this little lot

So, thank you Mr. G.  Hope to see you again sometime soon.

New Friends

I saw a quote on Twitter the other day which said:

“Facebook makes you hate people you already know and

   Twitter makes you love people you’ll never meet.”

@SwedishCanary

That is exactly what this blog has done (well, not the Facebook hating thing).  I have met (virtually) so many people through this blog and Twitter [and if you are one of them, a big hello].  I have also realized how many expats out there are having the same issues, experiences and fun as I am.   

Goodies

This has only happened once (so far) [*hint, hint*] and it was bloody brilliant.

As the Hershey’s debacle was in full swing, a couple of start up companies contacted me to review their service.  I was asked by ChocolateMailBox.com to take a look at what they are offering and they sent me a lovely box full of Cadbury’s.  My post about that is HERE.

So if there’s anyone else out there who is just dying to send me stuff – go ahead [*smile*] – Yes, I am being cheeky.

British Telly

I was contacted by the BBC, yes the real Aunty Beeb, to participate in a telly programme pitting expats and their families at home against other expats and home families.  While this sounded like an absolutely fantastic idea that I would jump at, I missed the deadline (mainly due to the time difference of emails, etc) so I am a bit gutted.  

Hopefully, they will have a second season and I will definitely be there, with bells on!

I’m not in any way saying, though, that this blogging malarkey is easy.  Sometimes I just sit here and stare at my computer with vacant eyes and an empty head not knowing  what to say.  But apparently, my brain kicks into gear every now and again and here we are…

Things I do that Amuse and Bemuse Americans

Shaking the Milk

I grew up having the milkman deliver milk, in glass bottles, to the doorstep – sometimes before we even woke up.   And I remember sometimes getting home from work and finding the milk still on the doorstep and almost gone off because it had been sitting in the sun all day (well, kind of – it was England, after all).  But the best bit of the milk, was the thick glob of cream at the top of every bottle.  Which meant you had to shake the bottle to mix it up before you used it.  Even when it was already open, you had to take it out of the fridge and give it a shake before you topped up your tea because the cream always rises, as they say.

This is one of the things I cannot stop doing.  I’ve had many a strange look when I take the humongously massive plastic bottle out of the fridge and shake it up and down before making a cuppa.  Nobody does that here, and its probably due to the fact that the milk isn’t creamy at all.  There’s even a 2% - what does that even mean?  Having tried some of it, I think it’s 2% milk and 98% water.  Oh, and it lasts forever - you can keep in in the fridge for weeks, and it's still okay.  Try that in England and it will probably walk out the fridge on its own.

  

Not Leaving the Tea Bag in the Cup

Not sealed at all

Can anything be worse than trying to drink a cup of tea and having the teabag hitting you in the face with every sip? 

I see my American co-workers drinking tea and leaving the little tag hanging over the edge of the cup all the time and I've been asked why I don't leave my bag in there.  They say it should be left in the cup so your tea gets stronger as you drink it.  This is a bit of a misnomer as American tea never gets strong enough.  

And I have found out, much to my chagrin, that the more you dunk the bag, the more tea leaves fall out and you end up with a leafy mess.  It’s not surprising really, as the bags are only clipped and folded at one end and not sealed like they are in England.  It's just asking for trouble, if you ask me!

Milk in Tea

On the same note, people are often fascinated that I actually do put milk in my tea.  

In every restaurant I’ve ever been in you must ask for “hot” tea otherwise you will end up with iced tea.  You will get hot water, a (weak) teabag, a bottle of honey and some lemon slices.   If you don’t specifically ask for milk (which you have to remember to call “creamer”) that’s all you get.

There’s a small café/restaurant near my house that I’ve been to quite a few times and when I ask for tea there, the waitress says “Oh yes, English tea…. With creamer.”  Well, at least they’re learning! (But then again, have you ever tasted tea with fake creamer... bleh).

Not Liking Cinnamon

Now, I’m not saying I don’t like cinnamon at all, I mean, when I was at school we would make a fruit salad in home economics and put a cinnamon stick in the juice to give it a little flavour… but you would take it out before you poured it all over the fruit.  Subtlety was the key.

Ewww

Not so in America.  There seems to be cinnamon in absolutely bloody everything and it’s not just a pinch here and there, it’s a dessert spoonful, or more!   There are even fast food places that are dedicated to it for goodness sake.  Cinnabon sells only cinnamon rolls and when I walk past in the mall I have to hold my breath.  I don’t understand the fascination with one particular spice, but I’m told that I’m weird because I don’t like it.  I think I should just say I’m deathly allergic to it.

Mom/Mum

My "Mom" face!

I can’t say mom…. Yep, you read that right – I cannot say M.O.M.  (and I know you all just said it to yourselves, didn’t you?)  

It’s not  that I often use the word, I much prefer mum (obviously) but someone asked me the other day to pronounce it and I just couldn’t.  It actually hurts my mouth when you have to try to enunciate the ‘o’ rather than the ‘u’ and then I feel like I’m making a strange contorted kind of face and my tongue aches right at the back.  

Yes, I apparently am weird.

Gambling - A Great British Tradition?

The very first time we came to America to have a look at what we were getting ourselves into, my dad took us to Las Vegas – of course! Everyone has to experience Vegas at least once in their life. It was all very exiting!

So there we were, all packed into the car like sardines yet again, when we decided to stop for a late lunch at Stateline.  Now, as we came over the hill, I thought we were actually in Vegas – all I could see were casinos and lights.  But apparently not, Stateline is just a little teaser of what’s to come.

The buffet was calling our name and there was quite a wait, but hey, we were in a real casino so let’s gamble…. Or at least let’s feed a few pennies into a fruit machine.

So while the others were queuing up, I tootled off to the closest machine and began shoving quarters in one at a time.  A couple of minutes later, I hit it big…. Well, okay, I won about $50.  Nice - or it was, until I was suddenly surrounded by security guards.  Hmm… it turns out you can’t have a child in a Casino, or at least not next to the machines.  I was grilled as to who had put the money in the slot and why my son was with me (he had followed me over to the machine).  It was a wonderful introduction to the American world of gambling, I must say.  I think they only relented and let me keep the money because I was a tourist!  I sheepishly collected my winnings and did the walk of shame back to the family.  *sigh* They told me during lunch that if I’d put three quarters in at the same time, I could have won a bundle… but try explaining that to the security guards – I was happy to settle for the $50.

Although gambling is legal under US federal law, Nevada and Lousiana are the only states where casinos are legal statewide.  Other states have laws which restrict gambling to small geographic areas or to American Indian reservations. [Wikipedia.org] If you want to gamble, you have to really, really want to gamble because you will have to travel quite a distance (unless you already live in Vegas, of course).  The laws are extremely strict and heaven forbid if you’re under 21 and are caught trying to gamble or even walk into a casino on your own.  Gambling is a bit taboo in the US, mummies (or mommies) wouldn't dare let their child gamble - it's a big no-no, as if they will immediately be on the slippery slope to Gamblers Anonymous!

It’s a far cry from growing up in England where every seaside pier has an arcade choc-a-block with fruit machines, every pub and most chip shops have them too.  And anyone can play.  Here’s an example - my four year old nephew gambling away his pocket money in Brighton.

A big no-no in America

This is just something we do.  Growing up, if we knew we were going to the seaside, we would save all our 1p’s, 2p’s and 5p’s so we could go on the pier and – shock horror – gamble.  And blimey, us Brits gamble on anything – Horse racing, football scores, the elections, the weather, a white Christmas… you name it, and we’ll bet on it.  You can even see grannies having a flutter on the Grand National every year - its an English tradition.  Every corner has either a pub, a newsagents, a chippy or a betting shop.  A good Saturday night out for us was going to Wimbledon Stadium for the greyhound racing and letting my son pick the winners (or at least try to) and nobody worried about it!

Come on 6......

Although, there was that one time…..

I had been asked to put some money on a horse and went to the bookies with my 3 year old in tow. We were just in time for the race to begin so we stayed to watch.  To my utmost horror my son decided at that moment to stand on a chair and shout “Come on 6… Come on 6….” at the top of his voice, a result of  too many trips to Wimbledon, possibly.  The old fuddy duddies in the shop were not best pleased and we were asked to leave.  And once again I had to do the walk of shame…..  [is it just me or is this becoming a regular thing?]

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!

Holiday Photos

I've been away on holiday for a couple of weeks, so haven't been able to post for a while.  Not because I didn't have access to a computer or internet, but because I went "home" and there was just too much joy in my life for me to be able to think about anything else.  There were also many, many pork pies, sausage rolls, Marmite flavour Crisps, Mini Cheddars, Flakes and Lucozades to be consumed.  Well, pretty much anything I hadn't seen in the last few years was up for noshing.  I don't think there was anything I didn't eat, to be honest!

 

I'm back now and have been a bit busy the last couple of days.  Not lazy, busy.  I have not got jetlag, no I don't (no really, I don't).  *smile*

 

So because you might have been missing me... here's a few holiday photos.  Did I say I was acting like a tourist while I was there?  Yup - totally touristy and brilliant.  The weather was even lovely and I am not joking about that - it was hot!  (and very, very muggy and sweaty - but who cares, eh?)

 

 

The Shard

Yes, sunny Brighton Beach!

 

 

Quintissential London Phone Box



 

Does it look touristy enough?  I was with my American fiance who's never been to England, so I could endulge in all of the tourist stuff without looking like a muppet!  It was the best time - I just wish I didn't have to come back.  (But here I am)

Mother's Day - Brit Style

Yesterday was Mother’s Day in the US.  Once again, I totally missed the English Mother’s Day because there is nowhere at all in America that you can buy a mother’s day card in March.  Usually, the shops are so way ahead of every holiday, that it seems a bit weird that Mother’s Day cards are not on sale in January (I’ve seen Easter eggs in January and Halloween costumes in July).  Then again, it might be that I didn’t actually go out of my way to look for one in time for the English day.  Oopsie!

But yesterday, I spent the day with my daughter who had, unknown to me, booked reservations at the Palihouse for their Brit Brunch. 

I thought I would review it, for any Brits that are looking for somewhere "like home."

Their building is in a quiet road in West Hollywood and we found parking really easily.  In fact, we were right outside the front door – how often does that happen in Los Angeles??  Gold star number one!!  The outside courtyard dining is so bright and airy and just wonderful looking.  There were a couple of tables in full sun which is actually quite nice if you are a sun loving Brit.  J

Ahh… the menu….

Just like mum used to make

• Scones
• Sausage Rolls
• Welsh Rarebit
• Scotch Eggs
• Fish and Chips
• Bangers and Mash

And more….. oh, the decisions!!

We wanted it all.  There was a family at a table close to us who ordered, from what we could tell, practically everything on the menu.  Oh, if only our stomachs were big enough to fit it all in.

Of course, we had to start with a couple of drinky-poos.  Not one to miss an opportunity to look a bit posh, I had a Pimm’s Cup.  Hannah had a Morning Sun, which she said was just lovely (dahhling!)

Fancy Drinks

For starters we had the sausage rolls.  The pastry melted in your mouth and tasted exactly like home.  Warm sausage rolls dipped in tomato sauce - Mmmmm.  She then opted for the Full Monty which, of course, was the full English breakfast.  It even included a bit of black pudding.  I have apparently not done my proper job as a mum because she didn’t know what black pudding was.  I made her try it and give her opinion before I told her what was in it.  I was expecting a bit of trouble getting her to try it when she said “You’re going to tell me it’s a nasty bit of the animal, aren’t you?”  Of course not, I said!!  [Does that make me a bad mother?]  Well, she tried it and lo and behold she liked it!!  Although apparently not enough to finish it once I had told her it was, in fact, blood pudding.  (*smile*)

  

Yes, that is black pudding next to the eggs!

I had the bangers and mash.  A wonderful  pile of mashed potatoes and sausages absolutely covered in onion gravy.  The gravy was so rich and so very decadent that I couldn’t manage to finish it all.  Needless to say, we didn’t order pudding!  (I really wanted to try the Eaton Mess, meringue and berries, but just did not have enough room).

The waiters/waitresses were brilliant and kept asking if the Englishness was good enough and if it reminded us of home.  How could we possibly complain??  We were stuffed to the gills and could hardly move, but still wanted more!  Not a pretty sight actually.

As we waddled back to the car we both decided this was one of our best 'go-to' places and we would definitely be back.  Of course, we have to try everything on that menu sooner or later.  I would even make the hour journey to LA from my house just for the sausage rolls.  Hmmm... I wonder if they deliver??

If there’s anyone in LA who doesn’t know about this little British gem, here’s a link : http://www.palihousewesthollywood.com/

Oh, and by the way, this is not a paid review (but if I could get some sausage rolls sent my way I would absolutely accept them)  *Grin*

I Don't Know the Queen

All the interest currently being given to Prince William, Kate and baby George is having a terribly negative effect on my well being.  I think we all know by now the English do not like to be put on the spot in a conversation (or even in any kind of conversation, if the truth were known), but as soon as anyone knows you’re English, the topic is open… “Have you seen the pictures?”  Huh?  “You know, have you seen Wills and Kate in New Zealand?  And isn’t George just Daaahhling?”  “Such a cute baby, he looks just like his daddy”

I’ve even had people I’ve worked with for the last ten years ask me if I’d seen the photos and what I thought.  These people have never heard me talk about the Royal Family, let alone seen me drool over their photos.  So why, all of a sudden am I the font of all knowledge?  I know, I know, I’m English and I should know everything about the Royal Family.  I lived in London so we must have been neighbours.  Probably popped in every afternoon for a quick cuppa and a catch up.  Not.

Yes, I did see the photo of them in the window with the dog, but quite frankly, I was a tad more interested in the dog.  Dogs and babies make lovely photos, it doesn’t matter if you’re royal.  And yes, the jumper was a nice touch, with his name on and all.  I wonder if there was a photo we didn't see of the dog giving the baby a slobbery kiss.

We all have romantic memories of Princess Diana and little William back in the day, going about their lives under the microscope.  Nobody can say anything bad about Princess Di because she was so, well, pretty.  I remember getting a day off work for the Royal Wedding in 1981, the best bit of the day being when Saturday Night Fever was on the telly that night.   Oh, and having the day off work (did I say that already?)

But I’ve never been what you could call a “Royal watcher.”  It was incredibly, incredibly sad when Princess Diana died, I think I even kept the newspaper articles for a while.  It certainly brought the country together so we could all say how horrible the “family” had been to her.  But apart from that, the Royals have just been there in our lives.  Kind of like a distant relative that you don’t really know.

And yet Americans are fascinated with the Royal Family.  I may be generalizing a bit here, but I’ve rarely met an American woman who doesn’t seem to know all the ins and outs of what they're doing and where they’re going and where they’ve been.  Chas and Di, Wills and Kate – they all have little nicknames.   Oh and don't forget Buck House. 

My favourite bit about the Royals (apart from having the aforementioned days off work for special occasions) is when they actually do something that makes them look positively normal.  This photograph of Kate is a perfect example.  You can see right up her skirt and yes, she has scrawny legs and knobbly knees, just like any regular person.  There's hope for us all.

Oh .. and then there's Harry of course!! Who doesn't like Harry with all his antics?

The Beautiful Game

For a little while, back in the day, when I lived in London I played football for Crystal Palace women's team.  I think back then they were called Palace Eagles Ladies Football Club, or something like that.  I had to retire because I got pregnant and it's really hard to run around a pitch for 90 minutes with a bun in the oven. 

I would rather have played for Chelsea!

So when we emigrated to California it was nice to find out women's football was really getting a stronghold in the USA.  The world cup had just been played in Los Angeles and women everywhere decided it was to be the game for them.  Leagues were popping up all over the place and I managed to get onto an "over 30's" women's league.  (Yes, it was an old broad's league)  The standard wasn't high, but I hadn't played for quite a few years, so it worked for me.

Everything was going well, we even won a few games.  Every Sunday afternoon I was 'off to the match' for a nice bit of exercise - and then it happened.

I came across the one bloody woman who decided American football should be introduced into the rules of the English game.  I was a right back (yes a 5'2" defender) and she decided she was going to be a quarterback or receiver (I had to ask what this position was called as I have no clue).  Anyway, there I was in front of goal, with her coming at me, full speed, trying to score.  I tackled her, got the ball and then I felt it, a full powered shoulder and elbow shove into my back.  I went up into the air, did a somewhat ungraceful backwards somersault (so I've been told) and landed fully and very heavily on my right shoulder with a resounding *CRACK*  Even the keeper said she heard it!

Oh the pain, the agony of a broken collar bone!  I'd never been in an ambulance before and that was the most painful ride I've ever taken - and quite expensive too.

I heard a few days later that that particular American football aficionado had complained to the ref when the game was abandoned because she didn't see why they couldn't keep on playing and just move me off the pitch. (Nice!) I decided right then I didn't particularly like that lady (for lady read "bitch").

I never did play again.  I decided I was a bit too, um, old and seeing as I wasn't actually getting paid to play, I should  hang up my boots.  (or cleats as they are inexplicably called in Americaland).
 

I then spent all my weekends ferrying my kids around southern California to their own football games.  And do you know what, not once did they find a child who thought they were playing American football.  At least the kids get it, kind of.

Small Talk - No Thank You!

There are some things that just make me cringe.  The English nature is to avoid standing out in a crowd or bringing attention to yourself, just blend into the backgound.  So when I am chatting away to a friend just minding my own business and someone I don't really know joins the conversation, listens to me speaking for a while and then says "Oh, I love the way you talk, keep talking, don't stop.."   I just instantly clam up.  I can't talk, and I really don't want to.

It happened to me yesterday.  It had been a while and I had totally forgotten just how awkward and squeamish it made me feel.  I cringed inside and went silent.

It's a terribly British thing to want to stay in the background, out of the  limelight and especially when it's a stranger talking to you who, horror of horrors, wants to keep on talking and engage you in conversation.  Questions like "How long have you been here?" and "Wow, you've still got your accent" are the usual openers.  I mumble that I've been here 20 years and yes, I tried to keep my accent.  But they just don't give up... I end up coming across as rude and standoffish, but that can't be helped, I didn't ask for the conversation, for heavens sake!

Don't Americans know that us British don't like small talk and won't do it, unless it's absolutely necessary and unavoidable.  Even then it's only in very exceptional circumstances and invariably the topic is the weather.  Don't make eye contact and whatever you do, don't smile at someone.  Oh good grief, they might think we actually want to start a conversation and that would be horrendous and extremely uncomfortable.

What Does that Mean?

A Close Call

A few weeks after he started school, my son came home with a note that makeup photos would be taken the next week. That’s a bit odd, thought I, why would you have school photographs taken in makeup? Presumably this was a uniquely American thing schools did for a bit of fun. I was imagining him having a painted clown face or some such weird looking get up. He told me he didn’t want to participate and wouldn’t be going to school with any makeup that day.

Well – that was a close shave. It turned out “makeup” day was actually for all those children who had missed having their photos taken a few weeks before. Ahhh… it was a second chance to have get them taken. Bloody hell, I would never have heard the end of it if I had made him go to school with a painted face.

It's the Accent

When she was in First Grade my daughter told us she had to do a kern event report. I had absolutely no idea what that was and it was before the internet, so it wasn’t as if we could Google “Kern Event.” We went round and round trying to figure out what she needed to do. “It’s in the newspaper” she kept crying – “I need to get the kern event from the newspaper!” “Are you sure that’s what they said?” I asked her. “It wasn’t something else?” “No, no a kern event!” Oh, what to do – I was a bit flummoxed, to say the least.

My son walked into the middle of the conversation… “Stupid Girl” he says “It’s a current event .. C-U-R-R-E-N-T.. that's the way they say it” (don’t you just love big brothers?) Well, okay, that made sense, except she wouldn’t believe us. Bless, she was only 6 and didn’t understand the teacher’s accent.

These were a few years back, but it’s funny how that language barrier can catch you out now and again, just when I think I’ve got it handled, I’m thrown into a tizzy by a word I’ve never heard or which is pronounced differently.