The Last Week: Monday

Last night was the last time I will have cooked him dinner and tomorrow will be the last time I make him his breakfast and brew him a cup of coffee.


I read an article on Mommyish (I think it was there) about how parents often celebrate the firsts: the first tooth, the first step, the first haircut but they never notice the lasts: the last 12 month onsie, the last diaper, the last 2:00 feeding and so forth.  It's because, the author wrote, parents are so busy with their lives that they don't notice that something was the last until it's already gone and can never be recorded or even remembered.

It sounds sad, especially when I sit here and think about all the lasts we're going to have together.  I'm sure I'm going to make it sound as if this is a final goodbye and while that's not even close, I have no idea how long it will be until I see him again and I was thinking about this article and well, it made me think what are our lasts?

We're going to go out to a nice dinner tonight, just the two of us so, unaware, last night's supper was well, the last supper I was going to cook for him.  Tuesday night we'll be in Manchester and Wednesday evening I'll be having pizza with my mom and sister in CA.  I made something I've been cooking a lot recently a, because it's easy and b, it's fast.  It's oh so yummy though so it's not a bad last meal.

If I had thought about it I'd have prepared steak & ale pie instead.  Sorry honey.

Tomorrow I think I'll do something special and make my mother's version of french toast.  We have the bread, we have the eggs and I think it'll be a nice little thing.  We had that for Christmas breakfast too.  He really likes mom's french toast.

I can't say when the last lunch I made for him was since he doesn't usually eat lunch.  Tonight will be the last night I sleep in our bed and tomorrow night will be the last night I get to sleep in his arms.  Tonight is the last night I'll have the kitties coming onto the bed to sleep with us.  And when I fill up their food bowl tomorrow, it'll be for the last time.

Lasts are really depressing and though I'll stop writing about them, I know I won't stop thinking about them, wondering if this will be the last time Timmy lets me give him a kiss.

It's stupid, really, because I'll be back and when I return, it'll be for good; I won't be leaving again until we leave as a family.  So this isn't a 'goodbye' but a 'see you in a bit', even if that 'bit' is a year or so.

The Final Week: Sunday

My Coopaducks is not a quiet dog, in fact her toe nails always go clackity clack even after they've been trimmed and it can drive a saint to drink.


I know that, in a week they'll be annoying again but just the thought of hearing her toenails makes my heart leap.  I have really missed my Copper girl.  I cried like a baby when I said goodbye to her and I'm sure I'll cry like a baby when I say hello to her.  I have really missed her and the frequent pictures that my sister has sent to me over the last 16 months has really helped me see my girl grow older.  Britons really love their dogs and dogs are allowed almost everywhere.  Our local Tesco has an entrance to the store so there are doors that open into a patio of sorts and many people will allow their dogs to wait for them in there.  Many times they have a human waiting with them but not is minded by the presence of dogs.  In country pubs it's not a rare sight to see people bringing their dogs in with them.  Could you imagine a bar allowing dogs?  Britons bring their dogs with them everywhere and they tie them up outside public places like banks and the post office but they hardly ever leave their dogs home.  I think our society would be a bit more happy and friendly if we had a more dog friendly kind of attitude.

And my family, of course I miss my family and I can't wait to see them.  I've spoken to them extensively over the last year but it will be nice to see everyone.  I had a nice time visiting with my mother when she came to see us in July.  And I am sure I'll end up seeing a lot of people next sunday. Well, aside from my brother and my SIL seeing as they live in Oslo.  

I miss the geocachers.  I have.  You are all a great bunch of people and I do miss seeing everyone.  I miss my friends, the few really good ones I have.  I have a girlfriend who has a one year old I've not yet met and I can't wait to meet him!  He was born a few months after I left.

Curiously, of the many things I miss from home, the greatest ones are food related.
Carl's Jr.
Chili's
Deny's
Lamppost Pizza
In 'n Out
Taco Bell
El Novillero
Movie Theater popcorn!  Not the stuff they have in England-land

Oddly enough I don't miss driving on the right hand side of the road and if you've been in the car with me, you'd know why.  I think Mom said it best: I drive no differently on the left than I do on the right.  Once I got over my 'oh holy crap the lanes are too freaking narrow I'm going to crash!' I was fine.  I became a fairly good judge of the narrow lanes and just how much room I needed to pass by cars.

My Gunton calls this my return to CA as an extended visit home for me because that's all it is, just a visit.  But no matter how long this visit is, I will look forward to catching up on all those delights I've been missing.

Even if those 'delights' include the clackity clacks of the dog's toenails on the wood floors.

The Final Week: Saturday

Two checked, one carry-on and a large purse.

Aside from the few things I'm not bringing I think I'm all packed.  It's bitter sweet really.  We did laundry a few days ago to make sure everything I had was clean.  Of course I've been wearing some of those clean items so there'll be laundry to do when I get back to California.  Hi Mom!  :)

Oddly enough, I thought about this.  Gunton helped me sort out my clothes and those that were going were at the foot of the bed while those that were staying were at the head of the bed.  There was symbolism in that.  I might be overly educated.  I was going to reverse it but I figured that it'd be far more symbolic that the feet carry you away though the heart might want to remain.  Yes, it's sappy and disgusting, I know.  Like I said, I've over educated.

Mom had sent a lot of Union Flag items for the party next sunday and I stuck those in my largest carry-on.  To be honest, all the non-clothing items took up more room than my clothing does.  Strange.  Once those were in I started to pack my clothes around them, trying to keep them somewhat cushioned.  I don't have anything really breakable but some of the stuff is crushable.  My large pack was not large enough to fit everything so we had to find another one, a pack that belonged to the Gunton's mother.  I was able to fit most of my clothes in that.  I really don't have a lot of clothes.  And that which doesn't fit, will be going with me on my carry-on.  And then there's my purse.  It's big and it's pink so it can fit a lot of stuff.  Take note in the picture:

Mummy & Daddy Gunton, my Gunton and me

That's going to carry Bob, Mac and all their wires and things.  Note the size of said bag.  That was a Christmas present from my brother and his fiancée a few years ago.  It's large enough, I think, to hold a 17" powerbook and a phone plus anything else I will eventually stuff inside of it.

The next step is to weigh everything and make sure that I'm not over my allowed limit.  I get 2 checked bags that cannot be over 23kg in weight and 1 carry on no heavier than 10kg.

But I think I am ready and if I had to leave today, I think I'd be ready.  I'm just glad I don't have to.

There are a few items of clothing that are hanging over the foot of the bed, but those are a pair of jeans and some shirts I plan on wearing so I didn't bother packing them.

All I need to do now is print my itinerary and make sure I know where my phone charger is, my headphones and everything else.

Just a few more days and then I get to unpack it all.  Oh joy.  I hate unpacking almost as much as I hate packing.

The Final Week: Friday

Stores don't open until 10:00 and close at 16:00 on Sundays.

Yep, there are certainly one or two things I am so not going to miss about returning home to California and that is one of them.  I have, on several occasions, gotten a hankering for popcorn about six in the evening, after the stores have closed down.  I've had a hankering for popcorn only to find, hey look, no popcorn.  There were 100g bags of salted popcorn for 50p but, as of a few days ago, it appears as if we grabbed the last bag.  They do have individual packs of popcorn but it's a bit expensive.  For shame Tesco, people need popcorn in the winter too!  The SPAR (what we're calling the Roman Store for obvious reasons- okay, they're obvious to me and anyone who knows the way my mind works- ahemelizabethahem) has the 3 packs of butter for £2 which is a bit more than I want to spend on 3 packs of buttered popcorn.  The salt ones are much better.  And have I mentioned that I have been unable to find popcorn kernels that one can cook on the hob?  No?  Yes, I am not going to miss the substandard popcorn.  Not even the popcorn at the movies cinemas are what I call proper popcorn.

I am not going to miss how everything shuts down when the sun goes down.  It's cute, and it's quant and for a sleepy town like Filey well, it's mostly full of retirees so I can't exactly blame them.  But it's not just Filey.  Stores even in the big, bad city of Hull close down at 6.  Restaurants don't open until 5 and you can't order anything for delivery until after 4.  Unless it's dominoes pizza but then you get dominoes pizza.  There are no decent fast food joints.  They have McDonalds and a few Burger Kings, plenty of KFCs and I've heard that there's a single Taco Bell in Manchester.  And that's about it.  I know not everyone is a fan of fast food but sometimes it's nice to be able to run out and pick up a burger on those days you just don't feel like cooking.  But there aren't any Carl's Jr., In 'n Out, Taco Bell, Del Taco or anything of the sort.  There's also no diners open 24 hours.  It makes me wonder where those party hardy people go after the bars close.  Where are they suppose to go at 2 in the morning and they're starving?  There's no Denny's to be had!

And Mexican food.  Oh Britain, you're so funny.  There's a chain of "Mexican" restaurants called Chiquitos that sport such items as 'sala ketchup'.  Their idea of "Mexican" cheese is to put red and green peppers in cheddar cheese and call it "Mexican".  I have pictures to prove it.  The best they can do is a whole line of del monte products.  It's adaquate if you're desperate but come on, if people don't even know what a chimichanga or an empañada or a quesadilla is, then there's no such thing as a Mexican food in this country.  My in-laws have never heard of tamales or masa.  How can you describe to people the utter goodness of a tamale if they don't even know what masa is?  I can see what I am going to have to do when I come back.

And it might be a small thing but this country doesn't seem to realize that pumpkins have a greater value than just being used as a jack-o-lantern for Halloween.  Yes it makes a very delicious pie, which I have proved to my in-laws and, I assume, they have gone on to show to their families.  I have seen a recipe in a British recipe book that has a standard pumpkin pie recipe but also includes a walnut crust.  No, England, just no.

When we were still living in Hull the 24 hour Tesco would close at midnight saturday, open at 11 sunday, close at 5 sunday and not open again until midnight for monday.  See, it's only been within recent memory that stores were even open on a Sunday.  It's a slight pain.

And banks.  Yes, lovely banks.  Granted all banks are pretty much the same all with different tariffs and schemes to "help you save money" but there is something about UK banks that drive me batty.  There is at least a 5 day turn around when you deposit a check.  Yes my friends, at least 5 days, even longer if you dare to but a check in on friday.  It sorta goes like this if someone who banks at Bank A writes you a check, you deposit it in your Bank B.  Bank B sends the check to Bank A who takes it out of your friend's checking account.  Bank A then sends the money to Bank B who then puts it into your account.  In this modern day you'd think that this process should take a matter of hours, maybe a day or two, after all, this is fairly common in the States as well.  The only difference is, if your friend wrote you a check, banks like Wells Fargo will allow you to withdraw some money from that check, so long as you're in the black.  Not so with UK banks.  You don't get a penny until the entire check clears.

Smokers.  Goodness but I am not going to miss the smokers of this country.  Laws have been passed that smoking is not allowed in public buildings.  Huzzah, I'm all for that as I really don't want to be smelling ciggies while I'm trying to eat.  However, this is where American smokers are far more advanced than British smokers.  Despite signs reading that smokers must be within 20' of all doors and entrances, the second smokers get out of  a building they light up and stop.  Why are you stopping?  Why must you smoke in front of a building?  Smokers here are rude and disgusting.  American smokers are far more considerate.

"Safety Cameras".  Oh yes, on major roads there are these orange boxes with cameras on them to give you a ticket if you're speeding.  It's all for "safety" and by "safety" we know it's all for "money".  No one likes them and they are a pain in the ass.  They also have these "traffic calming measures" that are supposed to help the flow of traffic on the motor ways.  See, if there's an accident or it's rush hour these "traffic calming measures" are put into place.  Above the motorway are these huge sign posts with displays overhead, one for each lane.  For some reason I can't seem to find a picture of it.  These will flash a speed limit that reduces the speed limit from 70 to anything down to 40.  Imagine going 40 on the friggen motorway.  It is annoying.  It must work though because traffic does keep moving- mostly.  And even though I am never on the M62, it's a pain.

And have I mentioned that there's no decent delivery?  Well, Filey does have a nice chinese restaurant that'll deliver for £1 and supposedly there's a pizza place around here that delivers but the one time we called them for a pizza, they told us they couldn't deliver.  I'm not even entirely sure where this place is.

There are more things that I am not going to miss I am sure and, over the ensuing weeks I'm sure that I'll think of them.  Then I'll gloat, privately of course.  Gloating is so unattractive.

The Final Week: Thursday

I have lived first in Hull then in Filey and there are some things I will surely miss.

While there were parts of Hull that weren't bad, we lived in the less nicer area of town, about a mile from town centre, which, to those in Sacramento would understand as being mid-town, though not nearly as nice.  And then we moved to Filey during the summer and I really like Filey, I love Filey, it's a small town in North Yorkshire right on the North Sea.  Sometimes I feel as if I could just wave high enough my brother and sister-in-law could see me from Oslo.  It's a nice thought that they really are that close, that we share the same sea.


Of all the things I am going to miss, the most important and the most obvious will be my Gunton.  I am going to miss waking up next to him in the morning (unless he's gotten up before me) and going to sleep next to him each night.  I am going to miss his excitement when he reads something exciting and must share it with me instantly.  I am going to miss the way he goes into ecstasy over that first cup of coffee in the morning, or even how he gets me to do it by claiming that he just doesn't make it as good as I do.  I'm going to miss making breakfast with him while we talk about this, that, and another thing.  Over the last year plus we've lived in each other's pocket and despite many hardships we've only gotten closer.  Everyday I am grateful that the Lord has seen fit to bring us together.

I am also going to miss my in-laws here in England.  I am going to miss the phone calls from the padres and the tios to make sure that we're doing all right.  I am going to miss the love and affection of people who love even though they don't have to.  Just the other day Daddy Gunton said that he Mummy Gunton were getting a bit sad over me leaving because, as he said, he's never had a daughter before.  Yeah, I am so going to miss them and for obvious reasons.  And it's not just them, I really enjoy spending time with my Gunton cousins too.

Mummy & Daddy Gunton, my Gunton & Mommy at Shakespeare's house

I suppose I ought not neglect the cats.  My Timothy Alexander and Lucy Jane.  Yes, they have middle names, don't judge, you're thinking about it now too.  I am going to miss the way Lucy comes in from outside and has to tell us all about it even though she was outside for just five minutes.  So Mom's calico is also a talker but not nearly as much as Lucy is.  I'm also going to miss the way Timmy walks up to me, and slowly but insistently invites himself onto my lap, or into my bathrobe because it's warm. I'm going to miss they way he purrs as he does it.  I'm simply going to miss them, the way I've been missing my Coopaducks.  They are good kitties who never fail to make either one of us laugh each and every single day over something they do.

Timothy Alexander deciding he doesn't want to go out in the snow

Lucy Jane thinking about something

I'm going to miss other things, small things that we don't do or have in the States.  While I am not exactly fond of three laned roundabouts, I am going to miss single lane roundabouts.  There are even street signs to let you know what kind of roundabout you're approaching, either a multi-lane, single lane or mini.  There are also lane indicators I really like.  They always let you know what side of the road you're supposed to be on.  It's very handy when you get to a roundabout or you're making a right hand turn and you're not sure which side of what line you need to be on, these little beauties remind you.

corner of Queens & Princes Rds in Hull

I'm going to miss the sound of the ocean, of being able to walk half a mile down the road and be at the water's edge.  I have really come to adore Filey and I am going to miss this sleepy little town.  I'm even going to miss the traffic patterns.  I've gotten so used to seeing cars drive on the left that I can't tell what is and is not normal.

It's hard to list all the vary many things I'm going to miss since I am not entirely positive what I'll miss until I'm far away from it.  I do think I will miss having a Tesco within walking distance.  The Gunton and I can decide we need to go get a few groceries and a five minute walk gets us there.  

I'm going to miss cadbury chocolate.  I really like cadbury chocolate.  I didn't so much when I first got here but I really like it.  My favorite part of Cadbury Creme Eggs used to be the gooey middle now, hoever, I really like the milk chocolate.  I much prefer it over Hershey's to be honest.  I know, how un-American of me.

I'm going to miss the Yorskhire accent and the friendliness of the people here.  Believe it or not, people in Yorkshire do smile.  And I'm going to miss the Yorkshire pride the folks around here have.  The War of the Roses might be over but these folks love Yorkshire no less than their long dead ancestors.

And I'm going to miss those thing I find funny.  Here everything is a 'scheme' or a 'tariff', or a 'programme'.  Back home, we never call something a scheme, a scheme is a bad thing, we call a 'scheme' a plan.  We Americans like our plans.  And we don't have bolt-ons for our phone tariff but we have add-ons for our phone plans.  And I suppose time will tell if I miss hearing people use the word 'mobile' rather than 'cell phone'.  I know I always feel weird saying mobile.  I don't say cell phone but I will usually say phone.

I am going to miss a lot of things.  Maybe, if I think about it, I'll make a list and talk about it.

Of course, there are many things I am not going to miss, but that's for the next blog post.

The Final Week: Wednesday

This will be my last full Wednesday in England.

About 12:20 this afternoon I turned to Mark at a bus stop in Scarborough and I said, "A week from now I'll be boarding my plane."  What a bittersweet thing to realize.  In a week from now I will be flying over the Atlantic from Manchester to Reykjavik then on towards Seattle then home.  In just a week from today.

So today we went into Scarborough.  I had intended on taking pictures but I forgot.  We got up this morning all set to catch the 9:22 train to S'bro that would have gotten us into town about fifteen minutes later.  We didn't catch that one because we lost something we needed for one of our errands into town.  An hour and a half later, we still hadn't found it but the 10:59 train was coming and this was the last train we could catch for my Gunton to be on time for his appointment.  We were still a few hundred yards away when we heard the announcement for the train.   I don't run on the best of occasions (which my sister assures me will change) but I really don't do it when I've got 50 pounds of books on my back (okay, slight exaggeration).

The train ride was lovely.  There are lots of fields between Filey and Scarborough and they were covered in snow.  There had obviously been a light dusting over the night as the paths that our neighbor had so carefully shovelled were white.  When we got into town we had a few minutes to kill so we decided to see if we could find anything GB or England in Poundland (think the Dollar Tree).  They had nothing, though they did have lots of stuff for spring planting.  My Gunton assured me that he would, once spring came around, repot Harry the Christmas Tree into something bigger since he is root bound.  We then moseyed over to his appointment and we decided that, with the heavy books and the long walk to the university, we'd be better off taking the bus there.  We were quite glad we did.  Not only was it cold today but the walk was long and uphill.

We caught the 211 Fiely to S'bro bus back into town and meandered about.  We had some lunch, went into a few shops and looked about.  We went into a reduced price book store and he found A&W root beer, £1.25 or 2 for £2.  We had £1.90 so we got a book on cake decorating for £2.99 for a grand total £4.99.  He's not yet tried it but I think he'll like it.  We went in and out of a few more shops, mostly to kill time.  We eventually found our way to a Tesco and we bought some bread and, on our way out, got to chatting with a lady who was doing customer surveys.  When I looked at my phone we had eight minutes to get to the train.  We ended up having to run the last few hundred yards because we had lost time going over ice and taking a path that was a dead end.

I hate public transportation.  I hate it with a passion.

Fifteen minutes we pulled into Filey Station and we walked home arm in arm just chatting about things that are unimportant and easily forgotten.

We didn't have any great plans, there were no fireworks, no parades, nothing spectacular to remind us of the day we had.  There was no fancy meal or fine wines.  It was a quick, cheap lunch that we shared and walking around.  We had an average, normal every day kind of day.  And it was quite nice.

Just one last day of running errands and doing stuff that normal, average, every day people do but, one week from now, when I am flying over the Atlantic, I'll be able to look back on remember how completely nice a day we shared, just one week ago.

The Final Week: Tuesday

It's come down to a week now and the most pressing issue is what am I going to pack.

I'm leaving England, the UK and, most importantly, my Gunton.  I have no idea how long it will be before I am able to return and so I need to pack.  I've been putting it off, ignoring it, forgetting about it, living day to day as if the 23rd is not going to arrive.

And if there was a way of postponing the inevitable, I would do it.  But I can't so I start seriously thinking about packing.

In my opinion packing is the one sure fire way of saying, yes I am doing this, I am leaving.  Packing for a trip is always filled with joy and excitement.  Packing to return home well, that's not always as much fun.  For many of us, we're going on a short holiday and though we had fun and we hate to leave, we're honestly quite glad to be going home.  Home means a return of the normal, a return to the daily grind that can now be made more bearable by the fun that was just had.

And I have had a great time in the UK.  I've learned to look right then left when crossing the street.  And that took me a while get that one down.  And then I learned how to drive on the left with a right hand drive and shifting with the right hand proved interesting.  I learned how to make a proper cup of tea (Yorkshire tea).  I learned that while the Queen might use Twinnings, the rest of the country uses the cheaper PG Tips or Tetley's or Yorkshire Tea.  I learned what Yorkshire Pudding was and that it's best served with onion gravy with a sunday roast.  I learned that bacon isn't the same thing in the UK and I learned what a Full English means.  I have learned how to properly carry home fish and chips from a take away.  I have learned a little about cockney rhyming slang.  I have learned the difference between a slag and a chav.  I've learned that most of the population still smokes and they aren't very courteous smokers at that.  I have learned what it means to be a Hyacinth Bucket (bouquet) and I feel so sorry for Richard.

And I speak a little differently now, not so much as one would notice.  The phrase, 'she was sat there' has crept into my vernacular, despite my attempts to speak grammatically correct English.  I can recognize a 'posh' accent and a regular accent and I can even recognize different regional accents to a certain extent.  I sometimes flow from speaking British to American and back again, as if my mouth can't decide how it wants to formulate words.  I don't always just say 'hello' as much anymore but I say 'Hi, you all right?' or just an 'all right?'  I sometimes say 'ta' instead of 'thank you' or even 'thanks'.  And I say, 'That's brilliant, thank you' as un-American way as is possible.

I am really sad to leave, sad to go away.  Among those that I pack I will be packing memories and gifts.  I'll be packing momentos that my in-laws have given me and when I get back home I'll take them out and probably cry over them because they are reminders that though I have loved ones and family in the States, I also have loved ones and family in England as well.  I will pack away my growing love for Filey and Yorkshire and bring it with me until I can return again.

Travelling is supposed to change a person, shape one, give one new perspectives on life and ways of living and while living in England might not be as radical a change as living in a country whose primary ethnicity is something other than Northern European, it has changed me.  I understand a little more why Americans become Anglophiles, though I understand that there's a huge difference between loving the country, and loving one's home.  England isn't Great Britain nor is Great Britain the UK, they are all different pieces made up of different people that make up the whole, and it's those little pieces that I have grown to appreciate and love.