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.
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.
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