Tea quenches thirst and tears

I don't know who said that but it is fitting for today. The packers arrived Tuesday and will load our furniture tomorrow. So today I’m going to write about tea parties because that is a much nicer thought. And specifically I’m going to write a little bit about one of my favourite things in the world…the Chilterns American Women’s Club. We had a tea party a couple of weeks ago so that’s not as random as it sounds.


Five days after I arrived in England Debbie arrived at my front door. She had invited me to attend the September General Meeting of the CAWC and the best part was she was going to drive me there herself. At this point in time I was still a little anxious about driving to unfamiliar places and adjusting to driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road. Some people (and by some people I mean my children) would say I’m not there yet.


The club meets in a nearby hall and from the moment I stepped into the meeting room I felt at home. I will add here that although the club is known as an American women’s club its membership is truly international. Anyone who has a child at the International School can join so it’s an amazing mix of about 200 women representing close to 50 nationalities and cultures. My first meeting happened to be their first meeting of the calendar year and it was a meet and greet type of event with some ice breakers thrown in for fun. I even won a prize for being the ‘most recently arrived’.

The club holds one meeting per month in addition to organizing about 20 activities each month that you can pick and choose from…everything from tennis to scrapbooking, hiking, outings, date nights, moms and tots, golf, antiquing….basically anything you’d like to do while in England plus the added bonus of friends to do it with. In addition they host several newcomers’ coffees each year that are filled with helpful tips on life in this country. As if that weren’t enough, they also raise money for the National Society for Epilepsy and another local charity each year. And the women in this club…some of the nicest people I’ve ever known. Perhaps it is because we’re all living away from home. Well, most of us anyway…we do have some British members, many who have lived in the US for a period of time and want to maintain their connection with American women. Some of them are where I am now…they’ve lived in a foreign country that feels like home and after repatriating back to their home country they feel like they belong in two places.

The first year of ex pat life definitely presents some challenges and it is a wonderful thing to have women to share it with....women who can answer questions, women who will tell you where to find things you need to make your house feel like home, women who understand that children need play dates and moms do too, women who understand the emotional roller coaster you stepped on the day your husband announced you were actually moving to England, women who invite you to coffee when you need a friend, women who go to Italy with you for your birthday just for fun, and most especially women who understand that leaving a country you have lived in and loved is not an easy thing. In fact it’s a very hard thing.

Every May our club hosts a tea party for its members. The hall where we meet is the opposite of fancy so its great fun to see it dressed up every May. Women volunteer to decorate a table and they provide the tablescape which of course includes a teapot. The club provides the treats… tea sandwiches, cakes, and my favourite, scones with clotted cream and jam. When we arrived here my children were quite put off by the word ‘clotted cream’. Me, not so much. I am actually never put off by anything containing the word cream so I was on board from day one. It’s really just an extra extra thick cream, almost butter but not quite.

Many of the tables are put together by our various activity groups. Our Book Bunch always has a fantastic table and a lot of that is due to the fact that one of our members makes the most delicious cakes I’ve ever in my life tasted.

This year their table had a Shakespeare theme and she made a cake that looks just like the Globe Theatre. If you’ve never been just look at the cake…it’s identical right down to the thatched roof except of course this roof is chocolate icing which is so much better don’t you think.

This one is hosted by our BEES group which is an acronym for something but basically is an activity group for moms with kids in British schools or ladies who think they will be here long term. They did a bee theme of course.

Bet you can’t guess what country the moms who created this table are from?

This was one of my favorites this year. It’s an Alice in Wonderland theme and it was just so pink.

Did I mention we dress up a little for this meeting and you can wear a hat if you dare. This picture was taken at last year’s tea party.

There is one other piece of information they tell you when you first arrive …they tell you that one day it is going to be hard to leave. And you say, yeah right. Because when they tell you this you are a brand new ex pat and you still have that deer in the headlights look about you. And you don’t believe them. In that moment of being new…when you’ve been here just over five days and you have already dinged the car mirror (maybe even twice or maybe every time you drive) and you can’t operate your washing machine which incidentally holds exactly one pair of jeans and a sock and takes 55 minutes to run a ‘quick wash’ and you are frustrated that your mini frig looks full when all that is inside is a pint of milk and two cartons of yogurt and you are missing your mother and you don’t remember how many kilos equals a pound or if you ever even knew that, and your teenager is sad and you can’t make it better, and you try to order carryout and they don’t know what you mean because you say carryout instead of takeaway and you are just so bone weary exhausted and everything about your new home feels not quite right and what you really want is to just lie down and have a good long cry….

In that moment you cannot imagine that one day you will have a blog and you will say they were right.

Like baseball without the bases or the hotdogs or the friendly slapping on the backside

Yes I am moving house in just over one weeks time which is why I spent most of yesterday at a cricket match. I may be blocking just a little. Actually some friends invited us to a local match and I am determined to make time for friends in this next week. Plus it was a beautiful day and far too nice to be indoors taking inventory of our forks and knickers.

Cricket is a tad complicated and that may just be a giant understatement. For starters, everyone is dressed in white…in most sports players on opposing teams are at least wearing different colours or letters or something. And I guess it is the mother in me who couldn’t help but think about the laundry that follows a game…all that very crisp white worn for a game played on grass. Oh my.

If you’ve never played cricket or you didn’t grow up in a country whose national game is cricket then it is essential to attend a match with someone who did. We attended with our friends, G and A. G is Australian and has played the game so he helpfully explained as we watched. His wife, A, is actually from Florida and went to Auburn but we don’t hold that against her…have I mentioned our love of Tennessee football?

Cricket is actually a very civilized sport...not a lot of cheering and shouting, more like dignified clapping from the fans. I think that’s because the games are sooooo long it’s hard to get the crowd worked up into any kind of screaming frenzy. The match we attended began at 11:30 am and at 2:30 pm the first team was still at bat with 206 points. That’s right…three hours into the game and the first team up is still at bat. And it’s not because they didn’t have any outs but you need 10 and there are ten ways to get ‘out’. I think. Like I said you need a tutor to make sense of this game.

Cricket is played on a pitch (field) which is not a diamond, more of an oval. There is a batter (batsman) and a batter’s box (the crease) and a pitcher (bowler) and umpires who do not wear black and white stripes but instead wear white coats and hats and look a bit like the butcher at our local supermarket who wears a remarkably similar uniform.

The players in the field do not use mitts…they catch the very hard ball with their bare hands. It’s gotta sting. A lot. The ball is red and the landscape is green so big white screens are put up behind the bowler so the batsman can discern the red ball and not get smacked up side the head (which, incidentally is not a British expression). There are two wickets on either side of the pitch. The wickets are three wooden posts called stumps, with spikes at one end which are hammered into the ground just close enough together that a cricket ball cannot pass between them. There is a crosspiece sitting on top and this is called a bail. Incidentally the umpires remove the bail when the teams are not on the field. This keeps overly enthusiastic fans from taking home what would be a great souvenir. A bowler attempts to knock the bail off the wicket with his pitch. I think. (see paragraph above regarding a tutor) The players do wear shoes with small spikes but they don’t pat each other on the bum (a British expression) like baseball players.

Speaking of expressions… I missed my Wednesday word post this week because I was busy moving furniture at my daughters, and hauling 20hundred boxes up and down stairs did something to my brain to the point that I couldn’t remember my own name let alone comment in another language. And yes, technically we speak the same language but if you read my Wednesday word posts you will know that is not entirely accurate. Anyway, there are a few expressions heard here that originated with cricket. You may not have heard the expression, ‘a sticky wicket’ unless you live in England but I’ve heard it and I like it. Essentially it means a tight spot. How about the expression ‘bowling a maiden over’…this is more or less a no hitter but there could actually be a hit, just no score. (Again, see paragraph above about needing a tutor). My favourite expression though has got to be, ‘I say, that simply isn’t cricket.’ And I’m pretty sure this must be said with a posh accent. Do we use the word posh in the states? I honestly can’t remember. The expression ‘simply not cricket’ means ungentlemanly behaviour. I already mentioned that cricket is a civilized sport. I mean we don’t break for lunch and/or tea in the middle of a baseball game do we? I love a sport that breaks for lunch and tea. And Pimms. They sell Pimms at the match.

Pimms is a summery drink garnished with lots of fresh fruit served at summertime parties, Wimbledon, the Henley regatta and cricket matches on warm, sunny English days. And it is refreshing and it is delicious. And civilized. Like cricket. And life in England.

Tote that barge Lift that bale

We have missed our pack mule these past few days...pack mule is another affectionate term I have for my husband because he's the designated carrier of all things heavy and let me tell you there has been some seriously heavy stuff moved this week by me and my two daughters. Daughters, I might add, whose combined weight is about 70 kilos. I can speak in kilos because I live in a country that weighs you in kilos and doesn't that sound nicer? They also sometimes weigh you in stones but just the word makes you sound heavy so I prefer kilos.


I am flying back home today and for now home is still England. And my superman strong-arrive with a dolly-just tell me where to put this 2ton piece of furniture- professional packers will arrive on Tuesday and after the week I've just had I say bless them! I think I'll sip a mint julep and shout instructions. I wish. I have 8 hours of flying in front of me today/tonite and I am going to need every minute to rest up for the next week of activity at my house. Which is still in England. Did I say that already?

Leaving on a jet plane...or trying to anyway

I spent yesterday in the airport. Three of them actually. Sounds like fun doesn't it? Not. I'm in the lovely state of South Carolina for a few days helping my daughters get settled into new apartments. Actually South Carolina looks remarkably like England today...cool and gray so I'm feeling right at home. Plus I'm staying with my sister who is the sweetest and so I'd be feeling right at home even if it were sunny and hot. Which I kind of wish it was. I'm jet lagged so there's no telling where this post will go. Consider yourself warned. The estate agent in the UK (that would be the realty company) phoned me at 4:40 am to ask a question. Of course she didn't know I was in the states and she felt awful when it dawned on her what time it was but even after she realized the time difference she asked if it was convenient to talk. Uh, no, not really. Still once I'm awake I'm awake so today is starting early.


And I really could have used the sleep because yesterday was T-RY-ING. I left my house at 8:30 am UK time for my flight out of Heathrow. I was on a jumbo jet and I'm pretty sure there's another word for them these days but jumbo works too. I spent the flight feeling kinda sorry for the man squeezed into the center seat beside me (I must be on an aisle and just fyi, according to my husband and my children, I have a lot of rules when I fly). This gentleman looked like he may have wrestled for the WWF except he was Belgian and I don't think they have the WWF there do they? Anyway, he definitely lifts weights and he definitely looked super uncomfortable. And I felt a little sorry for myself too because he hogged the arm rest and covered the control buttons to my video screen which was a tiny problem.


I fly to Dulles in Washington DC where I make a connection to another airline for the one hour-ish flight to South Carolina. I have to collect my bag and recheck it which isn't too difficult except I was traveling without my cabana boy (that's an affectionate term for my husband who carries all the stuff when we travel) so I had to schlep it all myself. And my carry on might have weighed more than me. I was bringing some of our important personal papers with me to leave in a box at my sisters since we don't want to put anything with banking numbers in our moving shipment and after six years overseas we have alot of papers to tote. Plus in cleaning out the odds and ends left in my girls rooms in the UK I found about $60,000 US dollars in coins in daughter2's room. Okay, it was more like $60 but when you're carrying that weight in coins it feels like thousands and it's heavy. And apparently it also sends up some sort of red flag to the security agents in Dulles because my bag had to be searched, run thru the machine again, bagged coins taken out of my case and run thru again, bagged coins removed from bag and sifted thru and layed flat in the container and run thru yet again. But I didn't mind too much because I was busy getting re-dressed...you know, belt, shoes, jewelry...



And Dulles is where the fun began. My flight was supposed to leave at 5ish and get to SC just after 6 ish. And of course 5 ish is feeling like 10 ish to me. At about 4:50 the passengers hovering in the waiting area all started commenting on the fact that there were four flights scheduled to leave out of this same gate at the exact same time. Now, I'm no mathematician but even I knew that was never gonna happen. So I was naively happy when they announced that the flight to SC should move to another gate. Til we got to the gate and saw the new flight departure time was now listed as 6 pm. Okay, an hour delay...not great but what can you do so you make the best of it. Then it was changed to 6:30 followed by an announcement saying there was a 'mechanical problem' with the plane and the mechanic was going to have to get on board. TMI TMI TMI.... please just fix the problem and don't tell me there is a 'mechanical problem'. Does mechanical problem mean there's a broken windshield wiper or does mechanical problem mean the engine may drop out of the plane at 35, 000 feet. Don't want to know thank you very much.


This game of delaying our departure time in 15 and then 30 minute and then 60 minute increments went on for a while. And at one point the mechanic (whose pants were hanging way too low ala Eminen) did not inspire confidence as he passed the roomful of waiting passengers while uttering the phrase, and I quote, 'dat plane's broke' Broke! Are you kidding me? First of all the word is broken and poor grammar is a pet peeve of mine. Secondly, I think I've already mentioned, TMI TMI TMI.


Minutes pass, or maybe days, and then we are treated to another announcement which says the mechanic must return to the hanger for a part. And the gate agent helpfully explained to the lady sitting beside me (whose kinda like my new best friend because we've had alot of time to share) that something called the air sensors are not working and that means the plane may fly too high or too low. Huh? Too low as in into the ground? too high as in we may careen off into the stratosphere?


And about this time I phone my husband in the UK who informs me he is at our good friends house enjoying a very delicious Sunday roast dinner. And I tell him I'm also enjoying my 6 strawberry twizzlers and a diet coke which is absolutely nothing like an English Sunday roast dinner but is still delicious in its own way. Twizzlers make me happy. Except I'm eating them during hour number 5 in Dulles airport in Washington DC when I'm supposed to be looking at my girlies smiling faces in South Carolina.

More days pass and we're treated to more announcements and coincidentally it turns out the flight in the area just opposite ours is also delayed because, 'the plane is also broken'. At least she didn't say broke but she did add, 'this just goes from bad to worse' which is not exactly the phrase you want to hear when you are preparing to board an aircraft. Our new announcement is hopeful though...we're getting a new plane and they've got a pilot who has arrived to fly it so we're almost in business.


I walked a little way down the terminal to get a hamburger because I've now spoken to my sister/daughter1/daughter2/husband about 27 times and I've concluded I will not be in South Carolina for dinner anytime soon and I should let that idea go for now. And as I'm standing in line for my hamburger I get a look at the pilot and apparently Doogie Howser is no longer practicing medicine but is now flying commuter planes. Seriously, this little boy is going to fly the plane??


And finally, a mere 6 hours late, we're on our way to South Carolina and when the flight attendant actually announced in all seriousness that 'you may have noticed the slight delay in our departure and we do apologize for any inconvenience' me and my new best friend (who turns out was seated next to me on the flight) had to laugh.

And it is now 11:30 PM (or 4:30 am depending which country you are in) and I didn't even mind (much) that I had to wait 45 minutes for my bag because daughter2 was standing next to me chattering a mile a minute and daughter1 was waiting with the car and I love these girls and there is no amount of aggravation or frustration or annoying airport announcements that their sweet faces cannot erase the moment their eyes meet mine and smiles break out all around. In that moment all is right with the world.

Brilliant! Remember you heard it here first...British Words from A to Zed (Week 6)

So….ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL??? I’m pretty sure you have to yell whenever you use that phrase. And let me go ahead and call it by its pet name here and rephrase that question…ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTIE??? Not quite the same, is it? Footie sounds like a game you play with babies but here when we say footie we mean football and by football we mean soccer if you’re an American and, if you are and you refer to football as soccer you will not win any friends.

Daugher1 and a friend met two British boys one evening as they were riding into downtown Greenville on their university’s shuttle bus. These two boys are attending her university in South Carolina on a footie scholarship (‘cept I’m pretty sure in South Carolina they call it soccer). When daughter1’s friend realized these boys were British she told them that my daughter lived in England so a conversation followed. And when I asked Daughter 1 what they said she reported, ‘You know mom...the usual questions…where am I from and who do I support? And I said, ‘Did you make sure you looked at their clothing before you replied?’ Because when you live in the UK it is critical to know who you support. As in which UK football team do you follow because you must follow a football team if you live here. I’m pretty certain it’s a requirement for obtaining a resident visa. And my two girls can do a brilliant rendition of the Manchester United cheer but you don’t want to break into the Man U cheer if your audience is full of Arsenal fans…or Chelsea fans…or fans of anyone other than Man U. And just fyi, my girls never want to break out in the Man U cheer and will only do their totally brilliant version in the privacy of our home when my hubs and I beg and plead with them because they’re so cute when they sing.

And speaking of brilliant…that word comes a close second to gobsmacked in the listing of my all time favourite British words. I bet I hear the word brilliant at least seven or eight times a day. And it may be used to describe a football match, an economic summit, or a fine Cheddar. And often it’s ‘brill’ as opposed to brilliant. Actually as much as Americans love slang I’m really surprised they haven’t latched onto the word brilliant. I think I’m going to use it once I’m back in the US… I’ll let you know how it goes. If you start hearing it around America you’ll know where it started.

Rugby is also huge here and I’ll go ahead and admit that I find it a lot more fun to watch than football (that’s soccer people!) I like to call it rugger because that’s the informal word for rugby here and I’m all about keeping the blog friendly-like.

Then there’s the sport known as Cricket which is officially England’s national game. If you’re going to a match you must go with someone who understands the bazillion intricacies of this sport because I gotta say the game is a bit confusing. It’s not anything like baseball with the exception of the fact that there are bats and balls and great uniforms. Sometimes a Cricket match can last more than one day. Huh??


One last thought about sports…my girls attended an International School and our sports teams were part of an International league. This means they competed against other International Schools in places like Munich, Brussels, Paris, Franfurt, and even Cairo. Daughter2 was on the swim team and twice went to meets held in Egypt…if you tell kids the championship meet will be held in Cairo suddenly lots of kids are trying out for the swim team!

Daughter2 is funny. We couldn’t wait for her to ring us to tell about all she was seeing on her visit. (Did you notice I said ring and not phone? It’s always ring here…as in ‘I’ll ring you later.’) Anyway, when she finally did ring she was very excited. We asked if she had seen the pyramids and her reply was, ‘Yeah, yeah, but guess what???!’ And we’re on pins and needles waiting to hear something fabulous and she says, ‘Guess what they have here….Cinnamon toast crunch cereal!!!’ What? You’re in Egypt and you’re most impressed by the fact that the family you are staying with is feeding you cinnamon toast crunch cereal??? It’s important to note here that we cannot get Cinnamon Toast crunch in the UK and that it is her favourite.

My cutie pie is second from the right smiling really big. It might have something to do with the fact that she is in Cairo with her friends.

Or it could be the memory of her breakfast cereal.

You know what they say...You can take the teenager out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the teenager….or something like that.

Counting my knickers….seriously

I have to actually count my knickers. And the inventory sheet says underwear but I’m going to continue to refer to these garments as knickers because I like the word.

I’m supposed to be working today on completing inventory form number one for the moving company and I’m feeling a little bit frustrated. First of all the form is printed in what must be a size 2 font. And the space to actually fill in the number of knickers I will be relocating to the US is not big enough to actually write in a number. And not only do I have to put in a number but I also have to put in a replacement cost amount. Thinking about the replacement cost of my knickers is actually draining my brain. Because I also have to list everysinglesolitaryitem in my entire house including how many forks I have and how many ties my husband has and I have to determine the replacement cost of said items. And I have to decide which items will travel by air (the quicker route but limited in weight) and which items will travel by sea (the long scenic route).


And in between trying to fill in the inventory there are people knocking on my door who would like to buy items I’m selling because I need to sell ALL my electronics and a few assorted pieces of furniture and two cars and give away all my houseplants, spices, liquids, as well as the Bath and Body Works franchise my girls have left in their bathrooms.


And, in between counting knickers and ties and forks and selling all of my stuff that needs to be sold I am on the phone calling the veterinarian who tells me to call the airline who tells me to call the cargo terminal who tells me to call DEFRA (Department of Food, something that starts with an R, and animals) who tells me to call the customs division who tells me to call my veterinarian…hmmm….maybe I can slip the dog under my coat and she can share my seat for the ride back to America. We all know airline seats are so roomy and my dog would absolutely love it too…I can totally picture her asking for a white coffee…she loves a good cup of coffee.

I popped into the little market at lunchtime today and bumped into our favourite waiter from our favourite local curry house and I tried not to cry. I was mostly successful.

Oh, and then there’s my friends…I need to see my friends. Yesterday I hosted an end of the year brunch for the women’s bible study group that has met in my home every single Monday for the past five years. They wrote me the sweetest note and they gave me an Emma Bridgewater plate with the British flag on it. And again I tried not to cry but I maybe wasn’t quite as successful in this case.

I also have to stop and look out my window every few minutes because when I do I see this-

And of all the things I love about this house it is the garden that I will miss the most.

And after I look at my garden I think about my ice trays because they test my patience on a daily basis and I think that if I think about something I find annoying here I will feel better. Except I’m secretly a teensy bit worried that I will soon be standing in my lovely new kitchen in my lovely new house with it’s lovely American sized refrigerator with ice that magically appears when you hold a glass up to its door and I am going to think about my ice trays here in England, frozen together, covered in frost because the freezer is not frost free and I suspect I might miss even this.

Spectacularly spectacular or Where is Mr. Roget when I need him?

Springtime in England is…spectacular. You knew I was going to say that didn’t you? If you read my blog you already know how I feel about the English countryside. You may also find yourself thinking I overuse the word spectacular but I promise you I’ve tried to come up with a better word and there just isn’t one.

Yesterday my husband and I drove thru the little town beside ours...it’s called Denham Village and it oozes charm and is home to one of the most magnificent wisteria vines I’ve ever seen. (And also a fantastic Italian restaurant but that would be another post).

The actor John Mills (Hayley’s dad) used to live here. I know this because they have conveniently posted a small blue plaque right on the house. I mean cottage…this definitely qualifies as a cottage I think. All around the UK you will find these small blue plaques that let you know if something significant occurred where you are standing. It may have been home to someone famous (or notorious) or some noteworthy event happened right where your feet are.

This wisteria vine is old as in old old with a huge thick trunk. It seems to go on forever.

And speaking of spectacular (and it seems I always am) the bluebells are in bloom here right now and I am not the only person who uses the word spectacular to describe them.

They cover the ground like a carpet and are one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.

Oh, and have I mentioned that the rapeseed is also in full bloom here at the moment?

Spectacular!

Going to find my thesaurus now….you’re welcome.