Stonehenge

Finally got to Stonehenge last month. Even though quite a mecca for tourists, I found it an amazing piece of history.

We started our day out by visiting the small community of Avebury. A lovely village in the countryside. We took a stroll down the only street admiring a small local church and the thatched roof homes. I, of course, had to stop in the small eclectic New Age gift shop. The stones are the longest stone circle in the world....over 1400 ft in diameter and covers roughly 28 acres. Some of the stones have their own names...Barber Stone (a skeleton with small belongings was found beneath it dated 14th century), Swindon Stone (the largest, about 60 tons) and Devil's Chair (a popular with those wanting to dabble in the black arts, legends say)...among others. These are not stacked or "dressed". They stand alone, those that are left, after flooding and other natural occurances. It is rather an amazing circle and sometimes not seen for those that only find interest in Stonehenge. Shame. I found it more powerful and magical. Perhaps due to the lower amount of tourists and lack of admission fee. These stones have been cleaned at occasions due to the appearance of graffiti. Kids. Go figure.

Then we were off to Stonehenge. I have longed most of my life to see these stones and they are quite a sight I will agree. They can be seen somewhat from the road...if you can see beyond the fence and clusters of amateur and semi-pro photographers. The fee, a measley 7 pounds (about $11.50) to see something that is admired and a vision of awe around the world. The area is fenced and roped. By my ears, the majority of the tourists Eastern European or North American (Canadian or American...never assume...the Canadians hate that)....a few Asians thrown in for good measure with the even more occasional Brit. One can never get close to the stones, and must be content with getting "close enough" and "enjoying" the audible tour guide you wear strapped around your neck. The stones are not as massive as I had envisioned, but incredible in any case. We were lucky enough to be there as the sun was lowering in the sky. It is quite a site indeed. I was impressed and glad to have made the trip.

The drive away and into Salisbury was through winding countryside with the sun setting. Glorious. Matt knows that I have an overwhelming urge to visit cathedrals all over the country. The night was unreasonably cold...even for a Yooper such as myself. The cathedral (although one side almost entirely covered with scaffolding) was a sight to behold. Lit up and brilliant in the night sky. The inside was peaceful and uncrowded (hallelujah). We were just in time for Evensong and politely directed to sit for the service and not be wandering about. We chose to sit under the unreachable ceiling and not with the choir as we could have (the inner chapel's seating area has one on each side of the wall facing each other...not the standard all-facing- front style...reminds me of Parliament actually). The choir and ministers walked in procession style and stood around a very large, realistic display of Christ's manger. I don't know if any of you have been fortunate enough to visit a cathedral during mass or Evensong...it is worth even staying for a moment or two. The environment, accoustics and singing can move one to tears. Even one of no religious affiliation or belief such as myself. It is an amazing experience.

I am thankful for days like these...they make me realize where I am and what is really important in life. Moments.

Time to rest...

I recently had the honor of attending the funeral of our dear old neighbor Jess. Jess was in his late 70s, a right ornery old cuss with family, loved by most others in the community. A true "Black Country chap". It was not my first funeral in England, but was the most traditional in most respects. Not as traditional as some have been, and still are...no horse drawn hearse...but more traditional than I know. Yet, I was not family. Nonetheless, I felt it was a calming experience for all in attendance. Many of you may have attended such occasions, but for all of my years, I had not.

A large hearse arrived on our street, full of windows and the casket in full view. All the attendees stood along the street to watch it pull up in front of the family home. A young woman emerged in a smart black suitdress complete with cane, hair pulled into a ponytail with a top hat on. She approached the door, removing her hat, knocked on the door and escorted Jess' wife June to a limosine behind the hearse.The male staff then removed what seemed like 20 or better bunches of flowers that were placed on the casket or tied down to the top of the car upon a rack. A few were the letters...Dad...Uncle and others. The immediate family rides in the limo and others follow in cars. The procession went a mile or two down a busy street midweek.
The graveyard had a small hall that seated very few...many of us stood...not a problem. Cat Stevens "Father and Son" piped in outside and in as we entered. Who knew he was a fan? The minister was a young man (40 tops) with spiked hair and piercings. He oversees the "church" near our home. He and his wife have a youth group for teens several nights a week...this country needs more like him. He stated a few words, those from family and his own, then a prayer. Short and appropriate. "How Can I Tell You", another Cat Stevens song playing as we exited the building.

We went to the grave and he was laid to rest. A very lovely tribute to a life. Even the gathering after was very understated and pleasant. Rest easy Jess.

Lately, I have noticed that motorcycle funerals are quite popular here. The English love their motorcycles as much, if not more than Americans. I am sure that they have been done many times over in the states, but I had never seen a bike procession or least of all a bike hearse before. Fitting for those who spend most or all of their time on 2 wheels rather than 4.

Friends Make the Stay

There have been many months of darkness and cold. The trips and weekends away have been few. This has not been easy for me...since this house is small and the neighbors cannot breathe without my knowing of it. Winter is never a great time for me.

One aspect of the time here in the last year gone that has kept my sanity in place many times over, is the friendships that I have made along my way. There are some that know exactly what I am going through, for they experience it themselves everyday. That would be my 3 dear friends, Maria, Tracy and Julie....( all of whom I feel I've known for years and have only known about a year and 1/2). I am blessed to have the support and encouragement of these ladies that are American Expats as I am. Our get-togethers can be a bit infrequent at times, but when we do meet up (which was twice this month...I am happy to say!), we just pick up where we left off...(yet, we do keep in touch by email normally..modern technology!) Plus, they like the coffee places as much as I do...:))! Starbucks is usually our place of choice...the familarity and all...(yes...they are taking over England too....) I don't care what anyone says...Starbucks is like a slice of home...(even if they won't take our group picture for us...right ladies..? Well...whatever! We make do....:) These girls have helped me through many a rough time....and I am grateful

I also have friends that I work with that are from many places.... Nigeria, India, Jamaica, Pakistan, Malaysia, Phillipines, China, and here in the Black country. Some here to stay...some passing through as I am and also trying to find their place far from home. I have been so fortunate to find such kind people that offer support and understanding daily.

My first job in England (thanks to my brother-in-law Nick :), also was marked by working with kind and special people that I still remain in contact with. We recently had a bowling day out on a Sunday that we hope to repeat again very soon. Along with the occasional night out for dancing and a few pints, they are the sort that are thought of with good memories and the hope to catch up with them soon...good Black Country folks. Down-to-Earth, caring and sincere. The English yooper, if you will. :)

Matt also has some really great friends that we spend time with as well...although not as often as we would like to. One couple in particular, we frequent what is now our favorite Balti house near home with them. They are fun and caring people, dedicated to their children and each other. The sort of people you feel better just being in their company. That means a lot. When one is far from what they know, they come to realize that it isn't where you are, but who your surround yourself with. Even though I am far from home, because of the friendships I have made, I feel closer to home in a way. As I always say....I really am blessed.

Give me water

One profound notion I have come to realize being here, is that I miss water. That may sound quite laughable...especially to those of you that live here. It rains here pretty much most of the time or at least once a day it seems. We are here are on a large island , meaning it is quite moist most of the time. Not nice, tropical moist like Hawaii or New Zealand....no....wet, gray and most days.....damn cold. The funny thing is that a lot of the British films I have seen usually show the bright sunny days....but rarely are the characters without jackets of some sort. Reality in being here I have seen that on some of the coldest days....many remain scantily clad. Not always only teenage girls...although that is a good majority.

Anyway...off track once again.....i do miss water. My husband was ever-so-sweet once again to bring me to the Southwest coast last weekend. Battling many hours of traffic (another usual) just to get there. I find difficulty in being in some coastal cities/towns. Weston-Super-Mare was pretty much one of them. That odd sense of inbreeding afoot. Every other person walking near the beach...although few actually on sand...carrying a bag/box of chips or eating ice cream. Many around the lower part of the Pier...(the "true" end of the pier having burned up) wandering the tacky souvenir shops and arcades. The rest of the population across the road from the beach at one of the many pubs or cafes lining the roadway. We, fortunetly, not those people. We had a nice motel room with a view of the water...a large busload of Welsh elderly singing in the pub in the late hours. This after going further into town and having a nice Greek meal. Cool. I miss the home feeling of walking the beach. The smell of salt water and seaweed. The rocks and sand. The sunsets on the beach are like no others. The colors and the peacefulness of it all. One has to experience it to really know it. It's beyond description. Magical.

The particular beach we visited the Sunday before returning to the nauseum of the city, was scattered with what was mostly couples. I think we were the only people who did not have a dog with us. There were so many different types of dogs...it was fun to watch. I have discovered in England that the primary dogs of choice are West Highland and Jack Russell. No offense to those of you who have them...but PASS on both. That day...we saw all sorts from Labradors to Goldens.
I fancy myself as a definite cat person...but dogs have a certain way about them that is fascinating and enviable..to be in the moment...and to be in joy while in it. How we all need to do the same.

Every dog had to chase their object of choice...preferably into the water...after being thrown by the "owner". Stick or ball...no matter.....as long as it was being done...over and over and over......I even had the pleasure of having a little fella come over and drop his tennis ball at my feet. He wasn't partial....me or mom...no matter...."just throw it...pullleeaasseee!!!" I was all too happy to oblige. Made me feel a part of the beach group. It was as though he knew that and came over. "This lady really wants to throw a ball for one of us....I can't pass her by...I have to help." What a thoughtful little hound.

Growing up in the U.P., I always dreamed of getting away from there and seeing all the world...especially the cities. Now that I live in the city, my one BIG goal is to get away from it. Return to the water...the country....the woods. Thank goodness I have a wonderful husband who appreciates that as much as I do.

I haven't discussed food??

I was amazed by reading back on my entries and noted not one dedicated exclusively to my favorite subject.....FOOD. England has been heckled for years...(primarily by the French...la-dee-da) for their "poor" or inadequate-to-satisfy-the-palate food. I must say...it is what you make of it. Although some items I will never attempt or adjust to.....(LAMB....ugh..never had it, never will...or Faggots....organ meats ground up into a meatball with gravy...just say LIVER....again....UGH) Chips here are "crisps" and the flavors are not of the familiar variety for an American girl raised on plain, BBQ and Sour cream and onion. No...here you will find: Prawn Cocktail, Turkey with stuffing, Baked Chicken, Indian Chilli and yes the favorite...Salt and VINEGAR. I'm sure I am only listing a few.

They have the usual fare....Yorkshire Pudding..(which is to be honest, is hard for me to describe...it's not bad...just hard to describe), bubble and squeak, toad-in-the-hole and of course, fish and chips (I'll pass....will take the chips...with curry sauce on the side...pure evil....) Years ago, Brits must have had little time to eat...because most of the meals favored can fill you up for days. Try not filling up on Bangers and Mash....sure....

What I can't understand is what is with the beans on toast?? Everyone here...damn near...raves and practically lives on them..it. I tried it twice and loathed it both....(with and without cheese...even all the Worchestershire Sauce (just say Wooster...) in the world can't help. Beyond me. Also...gravy. Few Brits I've met can have a meal without slathering nasty out-of-a-jar made gravy on everything. Even their vegetables!! In a country of butter, cheese and dairy devotion...I rarely see anyone slather butter on anything...even toast. That calls for Marmite or it's beef cousin Bovrille. I swore I would never take a fancy to Marmite....now i confess to the late night toast with a smear. Picture a spreadable boullion...that's what it is...at least I think so. Lightly with the smear or you will be drinking water to wash the sodium out of your mouth for the next decade. I'm sure many a Brit has allowed the silly American to do just that if only to see the look of horror desend upon his/her face. Cheeky buggers.Think Americans love breakfast(?).....a full English breakfast will put all that to rest. Eggs, bacon, blood sausage (yes...I agree...yikes...), potatoes, baked beans, tomatoes, mushrooms and god only knows what else. Tried one once....one of the bigger mistakes of my life.
The sandwich (or "Sarnie") of British choice would likely be: Tuna and sweetcorn, Ploughmans (thick cheese and lettuce with a nasty chutney on it....or type of pickle some say...don't taste like any pickle I have ever had!), Cheese and onion...(yes..I am serious..) Prawn and mayo...(holy gross) or another bizarre assortment of meats with cucumbers and onions on them. I make mine at home thanks.

I am being sarcastic...(albeit honest really). It isn't all that bad. I do enjoy certain things:

Jacket Potatoes....ok, these are just baked potatoes. Sadly, many put beans on them with cheese AND mayo....(ok..that's just wrong...beans....i don't get it..never thought anyone could desecrate a baked spud..I was wrong) I have become quite in love with the tuna and sweetcorn myself...never imagined...but it is SCRUMMY (borrowing this one...)

Cornish pasty....the REAL ones...like mom and granny used to make. No carrots thank you!!! Great to be somewhere that truly loves and appreciates pasty. Created here and treasured here.

Chips!! (fries...the big dinner ones mom gave as a treat when I was a kid) As I stated...curry sauce can be quite good...but just a bit of ketchup works....keep the vinegar. While I'm on THAT.....what is it with the vinegar?? It is pretty much in everything here...(I like that as much as salad cream....yikes!) Half the population is likely pickled by now and that being without the ale.

Sweets...........I have had some of the best desserts here and chocolate. Brits LOVE their sweeties, cakes and biscuits...(cookies). Some not for the faint of heart...(Eccles Cakes....sugar coated donut-ish biscquit stuffed with raisins...you've been warned....that would have to surpass the Christmas pudding...that is nasty beyond definition...no offense all you lovers of the stuff..) I believe this one is "borrowed" from the French..but who cares right? Profiteroles...(mini creme puffs covered in chocolate sitting in chocolate pudding and usually also covered with chocolate sauce.....my mouth is watering too...) Scottish shortbread....(man, I love that stuff...) Digestive biscquits with chocolate frosting....(like a shortbread cookie of sorts with chocolate....or HOBNOBS if you prefer oatmeal...ME!) Flapjacks (speaking of oatmeal..) with or without chocolate. Top of my list has to be scones with clotted cream and jam. Clotted cream is the decadent cream of heaven. Rich and heavy...oh so good. Have with tea and call it cream tea. Whatever...I still prefer coffee.

Sainsbury's Organic Honey Popcorn...I have ALWAYS loved popcorn..but usually only the salted variety...I have since changed...there is something still comforting and not-so-decadent about it with a touch of sweetness...not missing the salt fried tongue for hours after. This stuff is SOOO good.

Of course...there is always Indian food nearby...which i also LOVE...(but it doesn't love me...) or Chinese or Greek or Spanish or whatever culture you can practically think of. One of the benefits of living in a multicultural area. Naan bread at my beck and call....(luckily, I practice restraint...) Enjoyed an Indian meal last night at the "Balty Towers". Honestly. Fans of British telly must love that name. One of the few places I have eaten at in England where the service was as good as that food. Rare in these parts.

I, like, my other half, tend to be a creature of habit and frequent the same places. That must change...there is likely many great stops on the road I have missed.....so much to try. Some good, some not so good....sometimes the best food is just pub food. Actually that is serious business over here...not the beer nuts or jerky of the USA. This is usually really good food. Serious about drinking AND eating.

Goodbye Charley Zen cat

Another loss of a dear furry friend occured yesterday. This time it was Charley. This was a shock and hurts to the core. It is beyond the weep until your head hurts into the just sitting in silence, unable to face the thought of not seeing a little face again. I know that many of you are cat lovers such as myself and know the pain of loss. This was not my "pet" so to speak....but spent so much time here that he felt like ours in a way. The neighbors all around us and our complex knew him too. He had that way. The gentle Zen way that brought you peace and a good feeling to be around. A ray of sunshine in this frequently gray, rainy place. He had a look. A look that could melt your heart in an instant. So calm, almost caring. He even cared for his roommate and companion, Dido...sometimes playing the brutal older brother...just to keep her in check. Never forgetting to show his care for her.

I had only really known him for nearly a year now and it hurts like I had known him forever. My husband has known him for quite sometime and did the honor of burying him under the tree in the backyard for the neighbor and her daughter...he's a good man. He and Charley had an understanding...a great friendship.

He was only 10 and had severe diaphragmatic herniation... apparently for some time unnoticed. It had caught up with him and even with surgery, did not survive for long after he came out of anesthesia. We had so much hope. Hope that we would continue to have our visitor for an occasional cuddle, his comforting purr and soft gaze of reassurance. Never foul, never at odds...only to walk away or turn his back when he'd had enough coddling.

When Matt and I got home tonight, we both felt such sadness because Charley didn't run out to greet us and follow us in for a brief visit. Funny the little things we take for granted when they are no longer with us. This cool, damp house will be even more so this winter when he is no longer lying by the fire. I miss him so already...and I know that I am certainly not the only one. I could only wish for such reserve and courage in what he endured....he brought more comfort than he could ever know. Maybe he really did know.

It's the 4th..?

The 4th of July has come and gone with barely a whisper. Something I found quite funny was that co-workers off and on through the day would pass by and say...."Oh...Happy Independance Day....by the way...". I don't believe I have really ever had a person wish me such. It is especially odd coming from persons that we are celebrating our freedom from. I even had some say, "Gee...why aren't you wearing red, white and blue or something with your flag on it??" Funny...I never even wore that when I was in the USA for the holiday.
I wonder if any Canadians got wished a Happy 4th over here...chuckle....(it is well known that asking a Canadian if they are American is the verbal equivalent of kicking them in the groin....I've asked people here on occasion if they were American and was looked upon as if I had slapped them in the face...didn't know those Canooks were so sensitive....)

Anyway...as you gathered, my day into evening was spent at work. Done at 7pm. Any other year, to be working only until 7pm...? I would have been glad for not having to work until or at 11pm. Matt and I went to a local biker bar for a grand opening. The performer (Ian the Goat) supposed to be a Black Sabbath tribute....was anything but.....i even recall a Tom Jones song in there. Ugh. On the 4th no less....that's just not right. I think we were home near midnight. Sad, but true. No fireworks, no bonfire, no mass quantities of alcohol...(that was the only good part...)

The following day we met with American and British friends for an afternoon BBQ and fireworks. In true England fashion, we sat out of doors only temporarily due to a downpour. No fireworks that night either with the exception of a few sparklers on what seemed to be a Pavlova of some type that tasted on Brandy....(no idea...) Bless Julie...she tried! Yet the company was wonderful and I am thankful for these friends that I have made here. They keep a little bit of home here for me....as we all do for each other. Otherwise leaving behind that feeling of lonliness and sadness for being so far away from home. Thank God for friends!