In other very quick news...
Martin and I have made an offer on a property in Barton--the two flats that are being sold together. We want to turn it back in to one house. We could have a mortgage soon--scary!!! I will see if I can get a picture of it to post to the blog from the estate agents' website. It doesn't look like much right now, but it is practically screaming with potential!
Martin is doing well. He competed in a five-a-side soccer tournament with work on Tuesday and his team came in second place. We now have TWO football trophies sitting on our TV cabinet at home. I told him we'll have to dedicate a room in the new house to his trophies if he keeps this up! Work is improving all the time for him. He has a new boss who won the office over by arranging a branch activity--golf--last Saturday, and he really enjoys working with everybody at the office. He is currently working for a promotion and has been very dedicated about going out marketing lately.
Life goes on as usual--nothing too exciting. In the near future though, we have a temple/Lake District trip planned for next weekend. The daffodils are blooming, and it should be even more gorgeous by next weekend.
This Sunday is England's Mothers' Day, and we are taking Christine out for a fancy three course dinner. We'll probably have some pictures from that, so stay tuned. More later, but I must dash now. I'm at work, and it is really busy!
Friday, March 24, 2006
On the difference between the Americans and the English…
I am starting to get a feel for why the Americans have such a bad reputation with the English. It comes in the wake of a chat I had with my boss—Alan. He pulled me in to the conference room to have a little talk a few days ago.
We were discussing the poor relationship I have with my Yorkshire co-worker, Yvonne. He had her make a list of all the “problems” she has with me. She had a whole page, single spaced and typed, of things that I was doing wrong.
Alan only went over three of them, saying that most of the stuff on the list was petty and stupid. That was a relief. Alan actually apologised to me for giving the impression that he was not satisfied with my work performance. After talking to both ladies in the office, re realised that I am actually doing quite a good job. I am still in line for the position should it become full time. Then we got to the fun stuff.
Apparently, Yvonne thinks I have an “attitude.” Alan assured me that he doesn’t think I do—I’m just an American, and that’s the perception of Americans. Yvonne just isn’t very well travelled and isn’t accustomed to the way Americans are. Interesting…
So basically, Yvonne thinks that I am cocky and arrogant, which really surprises me. I have been mulling it over for several days now, and have had conversations with a few people on the topic.
Sarah (the nice one at work) said that Americans come across as arrogant to the English because they have a lot of confidence. Apparently, generally speaking, we know what we want and are not afraid to ask for it. We are more outgoing, and that comes across as arrogance to people who are unused to that forwardness.
I can see the point—I really can. The irony is not lost on me, though, as I have less self confidence than most people I know. The thing is, even though that “attitude” is seen as arrogance by other people, I still think it’s a good thing.
The English are so very self effacing. They do not complain about things when they are going badly—they just shoulder on. Until they go home. At that point, they complain like crazy about things. They’ve even come up with a special term for it—“whinging.” They still complain just as much as Americans when things go wrong—but they don’t complain to the people who could change things! They wait in misery until it’s unbearable, then whine about it to people who can’t do a thing to change the situation! I ask you, is this sensible?
Martin says it’s because it’s safer—that people here tend to have a group mentality, and don’t like to single themselves out in a crowd. They do things the easy way and avoid confrontation whenever they can. Myself, I think it’s better to have a few moments of discomfort that can nip a problem in the bud than to struggle on in a miserable situation for ages because you are too afraid to say anything about it. That’s what I’ve been doing with the Yvonne situation since I started working here.
I am so very conscious of the way I behave in this country, because I know the reputation that Americans have throughout the world. I have gone out of my way to be pleasant, patient, and kind to people. I don’t want to be seen as “that pushy American,” but I don’t really feel like doing that any more. After several days of analysing things, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being seen as the pushy American—especially if people are going to draw that conclusion no matter what, just because I seem to have a little self confidence and refuse to be treated like a door mat!
I’m a little angry about Yvonne’s comment, as you might have guessed!
I’m getting tired of not blending in. I love England, I really do. It has so many wonderful things going for it. It is a beautiful country with so much history and charm. The people, once you know them, are really warm and generous. But they are standoffish and cold if you are not one of them, and I feel like no matter how hard I try I will never be one of them. Is it so bad to just want to fit in?
One thing that working with Yvonne has made me realise is that I would ten times rather be beautiful on the inside and plain on the outside than gorgeous on the outside and rotten to the core. Inner beauty really does shine through!
I am starting to get a feel for why the Americans have such a bad reputation with the English. It comes in the wake of a chat I had with my boss—Alan. He pulled me in to the conference room to have a little talk a few days ago.
We were discussing the poor relationship I have with my Yorkshire co-worker, Yvonne. He had her make a list of all the “problems” she has with me. She had a whole page, single spaced and typed, of things that I was doing wrong.
Alan only went over three of them, saying that most of the stuff on the list was petty and stupid. That was a relief. Alan actually apologised to me for giving the impression that he was not satisfied with my work performance. After talking to both ladies in the office, re realised that I am actually doing quite a good job. I am still in line for the position should it become full time. Then we got to the fun stuff.
Apparently, Yvonne thinks I have an “attitude.” Alan assured me that he doesn’t think I do—I’m just an American, and that’s the perception of Americans. Yvonne just isn’t very well travelled and isn’t accustomed to the way Americans are. Interesting…
So basically, Yvonne thinks that I am cocky and arrogant, which really surprises me. I have been mulling it over for several days now, and have had conversations with a few people on the topic.
Sarah (the nice one at work) said that Americans come across as arrogant to the English because they have a lot of confidence. Apparently, generally speaking, we know what we want and are not afraid to ask for it. We are more outgoing, and that comes across as arrogance to people who are unused to that forwardness.
I can see the point—I really can. The irony is not lost on me, though, as I have less self confidence than most people I know. The thing is, even though that “attitude” is seen as arrogance by other people, I still think it’s a good thing.
The English are so very self effacing. They do not complain about things when they are going badly—they just shoulder on. Until they go home. At that point, they complain like crazy about things. They’ve even come up with a special term for it—“whinging.” They still complain just as much as Americans when things go wrong—but they don’t complain to the people who could change things! They wait in misery until it’s unbearable, then whine about it to people who can’t do a thing to change the situation! I ask you, is this sensible?
Martin says it’s because it’s safer—that people here tend to have a group mentality, and don’t like to single themselves out in a crowd. They do things the easy way and avoid confrontation whenever they can. Myself, I think it’s better to have a few moments of discomfort that can nip a problem in the bud than to struggle on in a miserable situation for ages because you are too afraid to say anything about it. That’s what I’ve been doing with the Yvonne situation since I started working here.
I am so very conscious of the way I behave in this country, because I know the reputation that Americans have throughout the world. I have gone out of my way to be pleasant, patient, and kind to people. I don’t want to be seen as “that pushy American,” but I don’t really feel like doing that any more. After several days of analysing things, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being seen as the pushy American—especially if people are going to draw that conclusion no matter what, just because I seem to have a little self confidence and refuse to be treated like a door mat!
I’m a little angry about Yvonne’s comment, as you might have guessed!
I’m getting tired of not blending in. I love England, I really do. It has so many wonderful things going for it. It is a beautiful country with so much history and charm. The people, once you know them, are really warm and generous. But they are standoffish and cold if you are not one of them, and I feel like no matter how hard I try I will never be one of them. Is it so bad to just want to fit in?
One thing that working with Yvonne has made me realise is that I would ten times rather be beautiful on the inside and plain on the outside than gorgeous on the outside and rotten to the core. Inner beauty really does shine through!
Friday, March 17, 2006
The doctors appointment…
Finally, the appointment that Martin and I have been waiting so long for—and it was more of the same!
In another display of inefficiency, the hospital had not gotten Martin’s test results to our consultant yet. Therefore, our appointment was only half complete. We also had to sit in the hospital waiting room for an hour and a half while the admin staff tried to get our test results!
That aside, the appointment was still frustrating. We learned that the man we saw last time was NOT Mr. Odukoya, but another member of his staff. That’s OK though, because the real Mr. Odukoya is very groovy. He’s African, and has a lovely, lilting accent. He is also extremely funny. I’ve never had a semen analysis described to me with a metaphor of the first Gulf war & Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait before, but surprisingly enough, it made sense!
So basically we have rescheduled for three months’ time. I have come away with very specific weight loss goals, and Martin just has to wait for his test results to be passed over and play diet police.
Probably the most frustrating thing about the appointment was the weigh in. After slaving my butt off for eight weeks, I have actually gained two kilos! ARGH!!! I think it might just be the conversion of fat to muscle, as my clothes are all getting baggier, but still—all that effort for nothing!
In other news, Martin and I are looking at property in Barton. That’s the town we lived in when we lived in England before, and I love it there! It’s so different than Grimsby—much smaller, and not so industrial. The house is actually two flats right now, and is spread over three floors. It needs a lot of work, but also has a lot of potential. It doesn’t have a front yard, but it has a tidy little back garden. It’s a possibility!
Finally, the appointment that Martin and I have been waiting so long for—and it was more of the same!
In another display of inefficiency, the hospital had not gotten Martin’s test results to our consultant yet. Therefore, our appointment was only half complete. We also had to sit in the hospital waiting room for an hour and a half while the admin staff tried to get our test results!
That aside, the appointment was still frustrating. We learned that the man we saw last time was NOT Mr. Odukoya, but another member of his staff. That’s OK though, because the real Mr. Odukoya is very groovy. He’s African, and has a lovely, lilting accent. He is also extremely funny. I’ve never had a semen analysis described to me with a metaphor of the first Gulf war & Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait before, but surprisingly enough, it made sense!
So basically we have rescheduled for three months’ time. I have come away with very specific weight loss goals, and Martin just has to wait for his test results to be passed over and play diet police.
Probably the most frustrating thing about the appointment was the weigh in. After slaving my butt off for eight weeks, I have actually gained two kilos! ARGH!!! I think it might just be the conversion of fat to muscle, as my clothes are all getting baggier, but still—all that effort for nothing!
In other news, Martin and I are looking at property in Barton. That’s the town we lived in when we lived in England before, and I love it there! It’s so different than Grimsby—much smaller, and not so industrial. The house is actually two flats right now, and is spread over three floors. It needs a lot of work, but also has a lot of potential. It doesn’t have a front yard, but it has a tidy little back garden. It’s a possibility!
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Canterbury, and a piano!!!
Last weekend was a lot of fun! We drove down to Kent to pick up my piano, and it was a great time. We left our page on the map book for the first time in weeks, and when we do something, we do it well! I was the official trip navigator, and it was very nearly a full time job.
We actually picked up the piano on the Isle of Sheppy (barely an island, but cool all the same). The people we bought it from lived in a tiny mid terraced house and it was quite a job to get the piano out. They called their neighbor over to help, and we tied that piano down so tight it couldn't move at all. You could actually play a little tune on the straps, they were that tight. Then we drove to our bed and breakfast, just outside the town of Ashford.
So yeah, the B&B was weird. At one point I was actually worried that we would end up buried in the pig sty, because this place was so out of the ordinary. The house was a mess, the gardens were in a state, they didn't accept credit cards, and had animals running around all over the place. But the people were very nice (though I don't think the woman liked Americans), and we didn't get buried in the back yard. Strange experience. I'm probably not going to recommend that one to a friend!
I found Kent charming, of course, though VERY expensive. Properties down there are out of control. You can get a two bedroom house about the size of our place in Cedar City (only on two floors instead of one) for about $300,000. Land is really at a premium though, and that is mostly what you are paying for.
On Sunday morning we drove to historic Canterbury to visit the cathedral there (seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, one of two Anglican Archbishops in England) and see the setting of Chaucer's famous Canterbury Tales. The cathedral was magnificent, though not as beautiful as York and Lincoln. In fairness though, it is MUCH older than Lincoln cathedral--parts of it are around 500 years older! Lincoln will always be special to me, since that is where Martin proposed to me.
We had a great time at the cathedral, since it is still used for services and they were in the middle of the sung Eucharist (the communion service). They had the cathedral choir there for it, and we got to hear real choirboys and the men's choir singing some beautiful music. Martin got a brief video clip of it, which I will try to post here. It was one of the most moving experiences I have ever had. The purity of those childrens' voices echoing through that ancient cathedral--wow!
Anyway, I now have a piano at my house. It barely fits, but it looks good all the same. I have already been making good use of it, and it frees up a lot of my time since I nno longer have to drive to the church to practice. Marvellous!
Not much has happened since then, but we've got a busy week ahead of us. Tuesday is the big day--our second appointment with Mr. Odukoya. I have been diligent in my exercise regime, and all of our tests have been done. We'll see how it goes. I'm pretty excited. Plus, we are going to look at a few houses while we have the afternoon off. We're getting ready to do that whole mortgage thing. So within the next few months we could transform into a couple with a mortgage and a baby or two (hopefully only one, but you never know with fertility treatments!). Things could change drastically in the next few months. I'll keep everyone posted--and I'll try to do it a little more often than once every ten days!
Last weekend was a lot of fun! We drove down to Kent to pick up my piano, and it was a great time. We left our page on the map book for the first time in weeks, and when we do something, we do it well! I was the official trip navigator, and it was very nearly a full time job.
We actually picked up the piano on the Isle of Sheppy (barely an island, but cool all the same). The people we bought it from lived in a tiny mid terraced house and it was quite a job to get the piano out. They called their neighbor over to help, and we tied that piano down so tight it couldn't move at all. You could actually play a little tune on the straps, they were that tight. Then we drove to our bed and breakfast, just outside the town of Ashford.
So yeah, the B&B was weird. At one point I was actually worried that we would end up buried in the pig sty, because this place was so out of the ordinary. The house was a mess, the gardens were in a state, they didn't accept credit cards, and had animals running around all over the place. But the people were very nice (though I don't think the woman liked Americans), and we didn't get buried in the back yard. Strange experience. I'm probably not going to recommend that one to a friend!
I found Kent charming, of course, though VERY expensive. Properties down there are out of control. You can get a two bedroom house about the size of our place in Cedar City (only on two floors instead of one) for about $300,000. Land is really at a premium though, and that is mostly what you are paying for.
On Sunday morning we drove to historic Canterbury to visit the cathedral there (seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, one of two Anglican Archbishops in England) and see the setting of Chaucer's famous Canterbury Tales. The cathedral was magnificent, though not as beautiful as York and Lincoln. In fairness though, it is MUCH older than Lincoln cathedral--parts of it are around 500 years older! Lincoln will always be special to me, since that is where Martin proposed to me.
We had a great time at the cathedral, since it is still used for services and they were in the middle of the sung Eucharist (the communion service). They had the cathedral choir there for it, and we got to hear real choirboys and the men's choir singing some beautiful music. Martin got a brief video clip of it, which I will try to post here. It was one of the most moving experiences I have ever had. The purity of those childrens' voices echoing through that ancient cathedral--wow!
Anyway, I now have a piano at my house. It barely fits, but it looks good all the same. I have already been making good use of it, and it frees up a lot of my time since I nno longer have to drive to the church to practice. Marvellous!
Not much has happened since then, but we've got a busy week ahead of us. Tuesday is the big day--our second appointment with Mr. Odukoya. I have been diligent in my exercise regime, and all of our tests have been done. We'll see how it goes. I'm pretty excited. Plus, we are going to look at a few houses while we have the afternoon off. We're getting ready to do that whole mortgage thing. So within the next few months we could transform into a couple with a mortgage and a baby or two (hopefully only one, but you never know with fertility treatments!). Things could change drastically in the next few months. I'll keep everyone posted--and I'll try to do it a little more often than once every ten days!
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
My own piano…
It seems like ages since the last time I posted. Probably because it’s been ages, but never mind. I have been busy with church and work and my new exercise regime. It’s only two weeks until my next appointment with Mr. Odukoya, so I have to be diligent.
Life continues to march on by here in England. Today apparently marks the beginning of spring, but temperatures dropped to about -6C last night, and parts of Scotland got a foot of snow. Still, the daffodils outside my house are growing a little more every day. And even though it’s cold today, the sun is shining like crazy!
The most exciting thing that’s happened in the last few weeks is that Martin bought me a piano! He found it on E-bay, and spent a whopping £10.50 on it (about $18.00) The only down side of the whole deal (and I actually consider it to be a positive) is that we have to drive to Kent to get it. We are renting a van and driving down first thing Saturday morning. We’re going to make a day of it, and I am so excited!
In other exciting news, Martin and I are starting to house shop in earnest. We got a mortgage certificate from the bank, and we can use it when we make offers on houses. We found one that we absolutely loved, but we won’t be able to get a loan for the asking price on it. I was hoping, but I guess it’s just not meant to be. I’m sure we’ll find something nice soon!
Here’s an interesting bit of information that I only learned last week. I always thought it was kind of strange that they didn’t call my fertility specialist “doctor,” and I kind of wondered if he was not actually a physician. My GP is called Dr. Wellings, and I was curious. The ladies at work informed me that once a physician becomes a “consultant,” or a specialist, if you speak American, you no longer call them a doctor. They are “better than” a doctor, apparently. In fact, to call my fertility consultant Dr. Odukoya would be an insult. He is Mr. Odukoya.
I can’t get over the class and title differences here. We were talking about retired Army officers last week, and the girls at work were saying how silly it was that retired officers wanted to be called by their rank. However, they have no problem referring to the local gentry as “Lord” or “Lady” so and so, even though they never earned that rank—they were just born to it. People who would never admit to respect for the nobility and royalty, who would actually laugh at it, still defer to them. I miss America—land of the free and home of the brave, where doctors are called doctor, you don’t receive a title unless you earn it, and the president is called Mr. President. There really is more equality there!
Nothing really makes you appreciate the way you grew up like moving somewhere else. I have always taken the rights of an American citizen for granted. Just seeing little things—like the way the British government can hold suspects of a crime in jail for DAYS just for questioning and not actually charge them with anything, or the way some religious schools receive state funding and have to teach the curriculum the government sets up for them, gives me a whole new respect for our founding fathers. They came to a new land with all of the ideas that made British government so great, and they also had a clear perspective of all the ways it was inherently flawed. Say what you like about the American government, but it is based on sound philosophies and great insight. The politicians may be corrupt and the laws perverted, but the framework is perfect in every way. Living in England makes me so proud to be an American. I don’t think I’ll ever become a true ex-patriot.
It seems like ages since the last time I posted. Probably because it’s been ages, but never mind. I have been busy with church and work and my new exercise regime. It’s only two weeks until my next appointment with Mr. Odukoya, so I have to be diligent.
Life continues to march on by here in England. Today apparently marks the beginning of spring, but temperatures dropped to about -6C last night, and parts of Scotland got a foot of snow. Still, the daffodils outside my house are growing a little more every day. And even though it’s cold today, the sun is shining like crazy!
The most exciting thing that’s happened in the last few weeks is that Martin bought me a piano! He found it on E-bay, and spent a whopping £10.50 on it (about $18.00) The only down side of the whole deal (and I actually consider it to be a positive) is that we have to drive to Kent to get it. We are renting a van and driving down first thing Saturday morning. We’re going to make a day of it, and I am so excited!
In other exciting news, Martin and I are starting to house shop in earnest. We got a mortgage certificate from the bank, and we can use it when we make offers on houses. We found one that we absolutely loved, but we won’t be able to get a loan for the asking price on it. I was hoping, but I guess it’s just not meant to be. I’m sure we’ll find something nice soon!
Here’s an interesting bit of information that I only learned last week. I always thought it was kind of strange that they didn’t call my fertility specialist “doctor,” and I kind of wondered if he was not actually a physician. My GP is called Dr. Wellings, and I was curious. The ladies at work informed me that once a physician becomes a “consultant,” or a specialist, if you speak American, you no longer call them a doctor. They are “better than” a doctor, apparently. In fact, to call my fertility consultant Dr. Odukoya would be an insult. He is Mr. Odukoya.
I can’t get over the class and title differences here. We were talking about retired Army officers last week, and the girls at work were saying how silly it was that retired officers wanted to be called by their rank. However, they have no problem referring to the local gentry as “Lord” or “Lady” so and so, even though they never earned that rank—they were just born to it. People who would never admit to respect for the nobility and royalty, who would actually laugh at it, still defer to them. I miss America—land of the free and home of the brave, where doctors are called doctor, you don’t receive a title unless you earn it, and the president is called Mr. President. There really is more equality there!
Nothing really makes you appreciate the way you grew up like moving somewhere else. I have always taken the rights of an American citizen for granted. Just seeing little things—like the way the British government can hold suspects of a crime in jail for DAYS just for questioning and not actually charge them with anything, or the way some religious schools receive state funding and have to teach the curriculum the government sets up for them, gives me a whole new respect for our founding fathers. They came to a new land with all of the ideas that made British government so great, and they also had a clear perspective of all the ways it was inherently flawed. Say what you like about the American government, but it is based on sound philosophies and great insight. The politicians may be corrupt and the laws perverted, but the framework is perfect in every way. Living in England makes me so proud to be an American. I don’t think I’ll ever become a true ex-patriot.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)