So I’ve come to a strange point in my expatriation journey, and that is the realization that England is not my last country after all. When I moved here in 2006, it was with the the tacit internal understanding that I was not going to move again. Old Blighty was going to be my home, I would work towards settling here, and here I would stay. I’m a nester, not a nomad–or so I’d like to think.
6 years on, I’m starting to think about it very differently. It’s a bittersweet process. I’ve realized that my destiny is not irrevocably linked to England no matter how much I might love the place at times. I’ve realized that there are new and exciting places out there, and that I have the capability and the opportunity to go there and live life just as fully as I have in the US and the UK.
But underneath all of that? I’m thinking about the things I’ll be glad to leave behind.
Look, I’m not trying to be the harbinger of doom…there are just things about England that I really dislike. There’s a few I love as well. Without further ado, here are some of those things.
There’s a dirty little secret that nobody ever mentions when a body goes off to become a single, unprivileged expat.
That secret is the emotional tailspin the “Emergency Contact” blank on a form can send you into.
Read more after the break…
Rally round the family with a pocket full of shells…because there will be no pictures of you and Willie May pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run, or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance
*sigh* People, let’s talk about this UK riot situation.
I know, I know. It was a whole week ago, now. Aaaages ago. But, in the grand tradition of CP time…here we go.
First, the factual, woman on the street stuff. I’m bad at that, so I’m going to send you here, to Spinster’s Compass, where a fellow expat(and ‘net friend) breaks down the aftermath of the London riots in pictures and video interviews. Very well done, and worth a look.
*ahem* so yeah, my blog operates on CP time. And what?
I’ve got a few things to talk about on this Mother’s Day Sunday…
*Why is it so hard for people to mean what they say and say what they mean? Even in the superficial things? This is something I always work on…I don’t like empty words and I try not to use them. I’ll be honest and say, I’m not very good at removing empty words, but it’s something I’m working on.
I feel really ill. It’s raining. There was dirt on the shower floor this morning, and white paint(?) all over the back of the bathroom door. One of my housemates had some sort of porridge for breakfast this morning that involved most of our pots, bowls, and countertops, and very little washing up. (I hate porridge!) The radio is playing the same Pussycat Dolls song again. Some random Scottish guy is killing sea eagles. Meanwhile, some random Pakistani guy keeps feeding the pigeons on this street and they’re responding to his generosity by ungratefully splattering every square inch of the sidewalk with creamy white pigeon poo. There’s a spider the size of a terrier posted at the front door like some sort of bug bouncer. There are goofy commercialistic Christmas decorations up everywhere in town already. And did I mention it’s raining, and I’m ill?