Marmite - Love It (or hate it)

Marmite, as the tag line goes, you either love it or hate it.  Well, I bloody love it!!

In fact, I love it so much I have a Saturday morning ritual of a bit of a lay in, while watching Eastenders and having a few slices of Marmite on toast and a cup of tea.  Every. Blooming. Week!!  Heaven.  It’s my one morning of total Englishness.

I rely on family visiting from Blighty to supply me with my Marmite rations.  You can buy it here in the US, but it is extremely expensive and you can’t get the mahoosive jar, only the small ones.  So obviously, when I was back in England last month I found the biggest jar I could to bring back with me.   Yes – 500g of lovely, yeasty goodness.

Who wants the weenie one?  Much too small

That was all very well and good until I started to pack my suitcase to come back.  How do you fit all the clothes your brought with you, the souvenirs you're taking back, 7 Double Decker bars, 10 Curlywurlys, 5 Fudge bars, 12 penguins (not the bird), a packet of Club bars, 2 packs of choccie bickies, Chewits, two six packs of Crisps, a jar of Picallilli, various other food items which you just cannot live without - AND your massive Marmite - in your case.  Well, that was a problem and I made a terrible, terrible (in hindsight) decision to put my Marmite in my carry on luggage.  *sad face*

No sooner had I got to security at Heathrow and put my bag through the scanner thingy than the bells went off.  This huge wailing sound as my case was unceremoniously pushed to one side and I was asked to step around… Oh dear, I’m British you know, please, please don’t single me out, especially in front of strangers.  Oh the horror, oh the embarrassment.  But, that was nothing compared to what happened next.

Oh no, not content to point me out to about 1000 people, (it was probably more like 50, but felt like 1000) I was then made to undo my bag (which was pretty much packed to the gills with more food items) and I had to watch in utter despair as every single item was taken out, held up as if he was showing it to the crowd, and then put back down again.  But then he got to my Marmite.  I saw his face, and knew instantly he was a hater, not a lover.  He held the jar up with a kind of screwed up nose and then let it go, dropping it into a bin – a metal bin, no less – and I still hear that clanging sound as it hit the bottom and rolled around a bit.  He even made eye contact with me as he was doing it - the bugger!!  My heart dropped and I worried all the way back to America that someone was going to take it out of the bin and take it home!  How very dare they.
 

 

But then there's this:

Ha, so there M. airport security man, you didn't get all my Marmite goodies.  My yummy crisps were still in (bascially) one piece by the time I got home!  And you can bet I will enjoy every crumb!

Begging, Borrowing and.... School?

Its around that time again in America when the kidlets go back to school after having done pretty much nothing the whole summer. Bad news for me - I don’t have any children at school anymore, but my journey to work will be lengthened by at least 25 minutes. Parents here don’t walk. It seems like every child, no matter how close to the school they live, will get a lift from their parents who dutifully queue in their cars so their bundles of joy can be dropped exactly in front of the gate. It makes for a long journey to work, especially if you have to pass more than one school. And it doesn’t matter if it’s an infants school or a high school – its all the same!

Every year at this time the shops are just crazy with parents running around trying to get ready for the first day of school. Not only do you have to buy a whole new wardrobe because there are no uniforms unless you pay for your kids to go to a fancy schmancy private school, but you also have to buy school supplies! Now I was under the impression that America was one of the richest countries in the world, but apparently not rich enough to provide schools with what they need.

Not content with having you provide your own paper, pens, pencils, crayons, rulers, folders and sometimes even books, on that first day you get a "wish list" of what the teacher would like the class to bring in which can be anything from tissues to hand sanitizer. I’ve even heard of one school asking for copy paper and printer cartridges, which is a bit bloody cheeky if you ask me.

A bit cheeky?

Then, about a week later the fundraiser packets will start to arrive – sent home as ‘homework.’ Not content with the handouts for the teacher, you now have to raise money for the school, whether by selling magazine subscriptions, cookie dough or wrapping paper. Each child is expected to sell as much as possible. To top it off, they have an assembly where they are told if they sell a certain number of items or dollar amount, there will be prizes involved. Yes, prizes - talk about motivation! Not only that, they bring in the 'prizes' to show off so each child can really see what they’ll be missing out on if they don't sell anything. Mind control at it’s very best! (And yes, there was that one year I had to buy enough items myself so my daughter could become the proud owner of a Razor scooter).

Oh how I miss the English way of fundraising…. The wonderful school fete! Parents donate a tin of spaghetti hoops for the tombola and that’s the end of it. No begging your family to buy some really expensive wrapping paper they will never use or some overpriced piece of junk that looks good in a catalogue, but never works how it’s supposed to. 

But then again, as someone mentioned the other day – there are only thirteen (yes 13) weekends until Christmas…. Better get buying some pressies.

Hold on, I know someone with a kid who’s fundraising!!!! J

Nooo......

That's a Bit Different - USA v. UK (Part 2)

A few more eye openers from while I was back in Blighty.

Sales Tax

I love the fact that in England the price you see is the price you pay for anything.  I remember when I first got to the US I would go shopping and at the cash register, have the exact amount of change in my hand only to be surprised when the tax was added and I had to dig around in my bag for more money.  It's very inconvenient, not to mention a bit bloody annoying.  I like to see what I’m paying straight away, not have to get out the calculator to work out the tax (which tends to be different in every city). 

 

Shopping is supposed to be fun and not include maths (which is not fun - at all).

 

Air Conditioning

 

While we were in England, it just so happened that it was one of the hottest times of the year so far.  My American fiancé kept commenting that it was hot and stuffy in the house and he didn’t understand why nobody had air conditioning.  Well, it just seems a bit expensive and a waste of money to have air conditioning that you will only use maybe once or twice a year, doesn’t it?  
 

Not so in America where every house, car, shop, office, petrol station, restaurant and possibly dog kennel has air conditioning.  You just can’t get away from it.  My main complaint about this though is that it’s always set so flamin’ low, it's absolutely freezing.  I sit at my desk at work with a heater and a thick cardi to keep me warm.  The hotter is it outside, the colder it is inside.  Sometimes I think I can actually see my breath.  And as for going to a restaurant in a t-shirt, you can forget that.  Every flippin’ restaurant has the coldest of cold air and it’s just not very comfortable or easy to eat when you’re wearing a parka and mittens.        

 

This is me at work

Although having travelled on the tube a lot during the time we were there, I must say it would be nice if there was at least a little air conditioning in the trains and I am sure my daughter would agree seeing as she nearly fainted from the heat while we were on a broken down train on the circle line!

 

Tipping

 

Ahh… this is the very best thing about eating out in London.  You don’t have to tip if you don’t want to.  There is no set rule that you must and the waiter will not chase you down the street if you don’t (yes, this has happened to a friend).  To just pay and walk out without feeling guilty that you might not have left enough tip is a wonderful feeling. 

 

I’m not saying I’m a stingy tipper or that I don't tip, but it just irks me a bit when you're expected to leave a tip, no matter what kind of service you get.  My daughter works as a server (which is just a fancy name for a waitress) and I know how hard she works, but she's good at what she does.  Sometimes the waiters are just crap and don’t deserve to be tipped.  One day, I would like to leave a little note saying “Wear a hat when it’s raining!”  That’s the only kind of tip some of them deserve.  
 

Apparently, the English have been there

Shouty Newsreaders

I actually thought I was going deaf the first few days I was back in England.  While watching the news,  I noticed you really had to listen because the news readers spoke in their normal voices.   I’m not saying the ones in the US use Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck voices, but they SHOUT.  Literally, sometimes you have to turn the telly down because they are shouting so loudly.

 

I really do miss the subtlety, Britishness and professionalism of Angela Rippon!

 

Angela Rippon - First ever lady newsreader

That's a Bit Different - USA v. UK (Part 1)

While I was back in England, I realized there were a few things I had actually forgotten all about or things that I really, really like. Here’s a few:

Ice

Now I know every American tourist complains about the lack of ice in drinks and warm beer, but I had totally forgotten that when you order an alcoholic beverage in a pub, not only is it in a tiny little glass, you only get one or two ice cubes. It threw me for a minute. Then I realized that although my glass was tiny, I still had the same amount of alcohol, minus the half a glass of ice you get everywhere in America. There are two upsides to this: your drink doesn’t get watered down so fast (if at all) and you can actually drink more (*smile*). Although this will tend to cost you more, but hey.

As for going out to dinner, there was never a time when someone just dumped a huge glass of ice water in front of me without even asking. I never drink water with my meals, let alone a frosty one and it annoys me that waiters just assume I want it. What a waste. Anyway, back to my point, when you did have water with your meal, it had no ice and that was really nice (for me anyway).

No Ice Please

Serviettes (or should I say Napkins?)

I don’t think I am a messy eater, but having lived in the good ole USA for 20 years, I’m apparently rather used to the overabundance of serviettes everywhere.  You go for a meal and the waiters are continually bringing you new 'napkins,' go for a burger and you get about ten in your bag.  Even at home, I am now used to using a bit of kitchen roll while I’m eating.  (I don’t think of myself as posh enough to use serviettes – kitchen roll is perfect for the job).
 

You can only have ONE!

So when going out to eat in England, I realized you only get ONE serviette – and not a very big one at that.  You better not order anything messy, because you will regret it later when you have dirty hand prints on your clothes from wiping your hands.  (I find it’s a bit rude to use the table cloth).  Even when eating at home (my sister’s house) I found myself getting a bit of kitchen roll.  I’m not sure what’s happened to me that all of a sudden I am a sloppy eater who needs to wipe her face and hands all throughout a meal.  Nobody else seemed to have a problem.  I think I’ve become brain washed by American-eze.

Toilet Roll

Ahh, what a lovely surprise when I walked into my mum’s bathroom and saw green toilet roll!  Yes, green!  Oh hello coloured loo roll, how I have missed you.  When we went to the supermarket, I even stood in the tissue aisle for a while gazing in wonder at all the lovely colours: peach, blue, green, yellow…..I have become so used to only having boring old white.  What is that all about?  Why does America only use white toilet roll?  I Googled it (obviously) and the only definitive answer was that apparently white was more popular (oh, and apparently the dye might cause irritation or bladder infections to the overly anxious Americans)  Hmm…. okay.  Maybe I should have brought some coloured stuff home with me. 

Although, I did find out that National Toilet Paper Day is on August 26 and there’s something I never knew.

Give me some colour

 To be continued.......

What NOT to do in England

Having been in London for a fortnight with my fiancé who has never been to England, it was quite funny watching him try to understand the culture.  After having put up with him laughing at me for quite a few years because of my ‘mistakes,’ it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot, as it were.

These were some of the fantastically outstanding moments of our holiday

The Local Fete

If you happen to go to a perfectly English fete and there just happens to be a group reenacting the Civil War (which is a bit random, if you ask me) and you decide that you really, really need to talk to them because you are American and they are kind of “your people”, do not, I repeat do not shout out “The south will rise again!!!”  This just makes people really quite uncomfortable and take a couple of steps away from you.  People who go to local fetes tend not to know what to do.  The poor reenactment man was a little surprised too…

England - or America??

The Underground

When you have picked up a copy of the free morning newspaper, you do not need to read out loud to your fellow tube travelers the stories that interest you.  Although we appreciate how funny some of them are, it just makes us cringe to be so, well, loud while on the underground.  Yes, the trains are noisy, but do you see anyone else talking?  It just doesn’t happen.  The underground is not a social place – we don’t like to talk to strangers, or even anyone we are traveling with actually.  If we must talk to our friends, it is done in a hushed whisper.  Do not draw attention to yourself, that would be terrible.

Oh and FYI – this also goes for over ground trains too.  You will be quietly "tsk, tsk'd" if you are so bold as to talk loudly (or at all).

Shhh... No talking!

Fast Food

When you are in a fast food restaurant (let’s say Kentucky Fried Chicken, just for the heck of it... not that it was KCF, but it might have been) you should probably not expect the menu to be the same.  Just because you like a certain meal deal in America, doesn’t mean they will have it in England.  You probably shouldn’t get mad because (a) you can’t see what you wanted to order; (b) the person behind the counter has no idea what you're trying to order; (c) you have no idea what the gentleman with the extremely strong Indian accent is saying and (d) your order, when you do get it is wrong.  Just saying..

Walking

Look right, then left, then right again.  Not the other way around.  I don’t know how many times I had to put my arm out to stop someone (my fiancé) from getting himself run over because he was looking the wrong way.  It sometimes even tells you on the floor which way to look for goodness sake!

 

Driving

Don’t keep trying to get in the driver's side of the car, especially if you’re not the driver.  It makes you look a bit silly (and, in fact, I now know what people think when I still try to get in the wrong side of the car in America).  Also, don’t slam your foot on the imaginary brake pedal every time a car comes towards you.  It’s okay, you’re a passenger – the driver’s got it all under control.  *smile*

Now, I know he will read this (he better had) and I want to tell him I love him to bits, but it was just so funny watching all his confusion.  I just can't wait to go back and do it all over again!

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)

A Perfectly Awkward English Moment

The other day I popped into the hairdressers for a bit of a trim and to touch up my highlights.

I probably should have begun to get worried when she got out the bleach and began smearing it all over my head.  It did look a little light and not at all like highlights.  “Oh,” she said “this colour is going to look sooo good on you.  It’s looking so pretty!”  By the time my hair had been washed, partially dried and then washed again I was beginning to be really worried.  Oh dear, what was this going to look like? 

Well, as soon as I got back into her chair and she took the towel off my head I found out.  “Don’t you love it?” she gushed.  And then the English kicked in “Ummm.. it’s a bit orange” I managed to mumble somewhat under my breath.  “I can put a darker wash on it if you like” says she.  “Oh no, it’s fine” I said in true British understated anger.  Oh yes, it was fine alright – if you wanted to look like a bloody ginger tom!

I look like this

And then we got to the “trim” which apparently means “Take off three inches” in American speak.  I wanted it back into the A-line bob I previously had – “but not too short” I said.  Well, now I have ginger hair and a haircut that looks like I’m in infants school.  A perfectly (kind of) straight bob, no A-line anywhere to be seen.  An orange bob no less!

 

I wanted to look like this (kind of)

Of course, I’m English so what did I do.  Oh, yes – I said “It’s lovely,” I paid (and left a hefty tip), went home and cried!

It’s not like I’m not going home for a couple of weeks and I have time (a) to get it re-cut and dyed into a better looking shape and colour (b) for it to grow out, (c) for it all to fall out, (d) to shave my head (well, I might have time for this one, but it's a bit drastic)

Oh no, I’m off to Blighty today and I have a birthday party planned with people I haven’t seen for years.  So, no problem there then!  And I’m sure everyone will say “It’s lovely”… they are all British, after all – don’t want to make a scene or upset anyone.

If I was more assertively American, the tip would have been (a) Wear a hat when it’s raining or (b) Don’t eat yellow snow.  But I’m not, and I didn’t and that’s it. 

 

I shall be taking the walk of shame at my own party!