We've lived here for 15 years now. We still get asked if we miss our home. I don't miss my hometown at all, not even my homeland, but I do miss my family...
Some days, I'd give ANYTHING for a cuppa tea and a hug from my Mum, go visit any of my sisters-in-law and have a glass of wine and a good laugh, or visit with some old friends and share a nice meal and catch up with them. Right now, I'd love to visit with a certain new baby girl :)
We do all this and more when we visit anyways, so, although it doesn't happen as often as we'd like it to ... it still happens.
For two very important people in my life, Mukilteo is their home - they don't know anything different. Curtis was 14 months old when we moved here, (two suitcases, a stroller and an infant car-seat were all we possessed, but that's another blog entry). Cadence was born here.
The kids think that a trip back home is a vacation, which it is, kind of. For me, its primarily to visit the family. My idea of a vacation is sunshine, sand, relaxation... The kids enjoy the differences in the cultures - Cadey revels in the spotlight of attention that her American Accent brings - she glows! And, they gain some understanding about why their parents are a 'little different' (we're not different at all - just displaced - everyone in Hull is like Craig and me).
Hull is very flat - extremely flat ... it sits on the plain of Holderness - a glacial moraine deposit, so is very fertile and so lots of agriculture, but these days lots of flooding too. There isn't scenery anything like WA state, but we do have the rolling hills of the Yorkshire Wolds, the North Sea with its fishing towns, cliffs, and wonderful beaches (when its not raining). Of course, there's always old places to explore - old settlements, castles, churches, museums ...
It is strange ... being raised in Northern English culture with very little disposable income and a "make do and mend" attitude. Friends were raised the same way - we have a common bond there. Very few people moved away and people with different skin colour or accents were few and far between. Leaving that place of normalcy and trying to become entrenched in a different environment has been interesting and fun. WA State is very diverse in its population, so you're free to be who you want to be and do what you want to do, because of the many cultures blending here already. We're just adding to that huge melting pot.
We felt for many years that we didn't completely fit in here. But those feelings have changed, thankfully. We realize that now, we don't quite fit in back home either. We've been gone too long, don't know the recent history, who's famous in that land, don't know the music, news, in-jokes, etc.
I must tell you about a funny thing happening to us on our last trip home. During our car journey north after landing at Heathrow, we stopped off at a 'motorway cafe' to get a meal and some 'goodies' for the trip.
This was quite a performance ... two jet-lagged adults, stressed, because they've just had to try to remember how to park a little (stick-shift, steering wheel on the other side of the) vehicle into a minuscule parking spot, two kids who really didn't want a meal because to them, its waaaay past their bed-time, but instead wanted to scarf down all the Cadbury's Chocolate they could get their hands on. Then the kids paying for their items with funny money - a 15 year old (with a British accent) asking for help counting out coins ... not knowing the value of each coin ... holding up the queue ... we were quite a sight!
Anyways, the style of ten pound note (or Tenner) in our possession last year had been taken out of circulation several years prior ... we didn't know this ... we tried to pay for our 'sweeties' with it ...
The cashier looked at us ... we knew something was wrong ... she looked down at the Tenner ... she looked at us again ... she must have thought we were nuts! (especially since we'd just had the fiasco with Curtis and his coins).
We sounded like her, looked like her, but judging by our blank expressions, we were utterly clueless.
"Ooooooh no, luv, you can't pay wiv this ..... where've ya bin fa 3 an arf years? ... ey June! come and 'av a look at this! This fella's got wun-a-vem old tennas"
The four of us turned purple with embarrassment and I whipped out my Visa card pronto.
We paid for our stuff ... on credit ... then as we were leaving, the cashier says (and Cadence does a fantastic mimic of this next line) ... "Fanks luv, fanks a bunch!"
I am proud to be British ... even prouder to come from Yorkshire. Would I ever want to return there to live?
No.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
BOLLOCKS!
Erm ... no, I don't use bad language! And in this case, it isn't used as a 'bad' word ... well, maybe it was initially, but over the years it became a standard response ... almost a "Ditto" meaning, for those of us who've watched the movie "Ghost".
Let me explain, but first, here's the Wikipedia meaning of the word:
"Bollocks" is a word of Anglo-Saxon origin, meaning "testicles". The word is often used figuratively in British English, as a noun to mean "nonsense", an expletive following a minor accident or misfortune, or an adjective to mean "poor quality" or "useless". Similarly, the common phrases "Bollocks to this!" or "That's a load of old bollocks" generally indicate disgust about a certain task, subject or opinion. Conversely, the word also figures in idiomatic phrases such as "the dog's bollocks" and "top bollock(s)", which usually refer to something which is admired, approved of or well-respected.
OK, now that you understand the meaning ...
Tomorrow is what was my Dad's birthday. He would be 74 if he were still walking this earth. I like to remember his birthday rather than the day he died.
I was Daddy's Little Girl. The youngest of 3 children, and quite an age gap between my 2 siblings and me. My sister, Sindee Jayne, is almost 8 years older, my brother Jonathan Mark is almost 6 older, and then me.
Dad and me had a special relationship. I think he had more free time when I was growing up, so I benefited more from spending time with him than my siblings. I truly enjoyed his company. I enjoyed hanging out with him in his workshop and garden - he taught me wood-turning, how to make fishing floats, tie knots, fix a flat bicycle tire, prune roses, grow Brussel Sprouts, Potatoes, Beans. We enjoyed bicycle rides, fishing, walking the dog and also a similar dry, quirky sense of humour. I'd quite often get myself in a pickle with whatever I was helping my Dad with, so I also became affectionately named (by him) at those moments as "Cack-handed Annie."
Then, I hit the teenage years. Everything changed. I was rebellious and we didn't get along too well. I didn't get along with my Mum either ... I was a difficult, angry teenager for several years there. I think it was about then that the 'bollocks' word came into play! He'd say "I love you" (in jest) and I'd reply ... 'bollocks'!
Fast forward 10 years or so, and I'm living in another country. I wrote letters every chance I got and made weekly phone calls to Mum and Dad and 'that word' began to get spoken again. One of us, before saying goodbye would say "I love you" and "that word" was ALWAYS the response! It became a game we'd play, wondering who'd say it first.
I did love my Dad. He loved me. In fact, it amazes me that he's been gone for almost 9 years, but the love I had for him is still in my heart, still as strong. My memories of my time with him are so rich.
He was a stubborn man, quiet, loved to potter about in his workshop, he loved to read, loved to learn new things, he had terrible handwriting, he enjoyed a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale with his Sunday lunch and he loved and adored his wife, children and grandchildren.
So tomorrow, in remembrance of my Dad, I'll say a prayer ... and just before I say "Amen," I'll add a quick "Bollocks" just for him - he wouldn't expect anything less! (Jesus understands).
Let me explain, but first, here's the Wikipedia meaning of the word:
"Bollocks" is a word of Anglo-Saxon origin, meaning "testicles". The word is often used figuratively in British English, as a noun to mean "nonsense", an expletive following a minor accident or misfortune, or an adjective to mean "poor quality" or "useless". Similarly, the common phrases "Bollocks to this!" or "That's a load of old bollocks" generally indicate disgust about a certain task, subject or opinion. Conversely, the word also figures in idiomatic phrases such as "the dog's bollocks" and "top bollock(s)", which usually refer to something which is admired, approved of or well-respected.
OK, now that you understand the meaning ...
Tomorrow is what was my Dad's birthday. He would be 74 if he were still walking this earth. I like to remember his birthday rather than the day he died.
I was Daddy's Little Girl. The youngest of 3 children, and quite an age gap between my 2 siblings and me. My sister, Sindee Jayne, is almost 8 years older, my brother Jonathan Mark is almost 6 older, and then me.
Dad and me had a special relationship. I think he had more free time when I was growing up, so I benefited more from spending time with him than my siblings. I truly enjoyed his company. I enjoyed hanging out with him in his workshop and garden - he taught me wood-turning, how to make fishing floats, tie knots, fix a flat bicycle tire, prune roses, grow Brussel Sprouts, Potatoes, Beans. We enjoyed bicycle rides, fishing, walking the dog and also a similar dry, quirky sense of humour. I'd quite often get myself in a pickle with whatever I was helping my Dad with, so I also became affectionately named (by him) at those moments as "Cack-handed Annie."
Then, I hit the teenage years. Everything changed. I was rebellious and we didn't get along too well. I didn't get along with my Mum either ... I was a difficult, angry teenager for several years there. I think it was about then that the 'bollocks' word came into play! He'd say "I love you" (in jest) and I'd reply ... 'bollocks'!
Fast forward 10 years or so, and I'm living in another country. I wrote letters every chance I got and made weekly phone calls to Mum and Dad and 'that word' began to get spoken again. One of us, before saying goodbye would say "I love you" and "that word" was ALWAYS the response! It became a game we'd play, wondering who'd say it first.
I did love my Dad. He loved me. In fact, it amazes me that he's been gone for almost 9 years, but the love I had for him is still in my heart, still as strong. My memories of my time with him are so rich.
He was a stubborn man, quiet, loved to potter about in his workshop, he loved to read, loved to learn new things, he had terrible handwriting, he enjoyed a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale with his Sunday lunch and he loved and adored his wife, children and grandchildren.
So tomorrow, in remembrance of my Dad, I'll say a prayer ... and just before I say "Amen," I'll add a quick "Bollocks" just for him - he wouldn't expect anything less! (Jesus understands).
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Welcome to the world, Imogen Grace!
My sister's youngest daughter, my niece, Stephanie gave birth to a baby girl last month. Welcome to the world, Imogen Grace! Although I've never seen you, I love you more than words can say. You'll probably be walking and talking by the time I do get to meet you.
My prayers for Stephanie right now are for her to have the energy and confidence to take care of this baby as a single, and very young, mother. I can't imagine how hard that is.
I'm so excited to be a great auntie! Every time I look at this photo, my heart strings are pulled 4952.32 miles and all I want is to have a moment with Imogen ... right now before she grows up. If my friends catch me in the act of giving extra cuddles and snuggles to their babies, this is the reason why!
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