A Funny Little Thing Called Faith

Faith is a funny thing.  We believe that something or someone will come through for us.  Sometimes it's because we know from past experience of a person's reliability.  We have faith our car will take us to work in the morning because it has every day since we bought it.  But sometimes there are no reason faith is based upon something far less tenuous; sometimes it's based on a belief, nothing more than the merest whisper of the belief that someone, somewhere is out there and is listening to our hopes, and dreams.

I have faith in people.  Whether that faith is that they will perform good deeds or bad ones is irrelevant, there is faith in human agency.  I have faith that when I wake up in the morning I'll be next to my Gunton.  If have faith that if I call my mommy she'll be right there, telling me what I need to do and giving me a helping hand.

I also have faith in God.  This faith is a funny thing because God doesn't respond to our faith in the way we think He should. We pray to him for a job.  We apply for jobs, we interview for jobs and we get rejected for those jobs.  What?  Lord, what in the world?!  What part of we need a job do You not seem to understand?  Faith is all well and good but it doesn't pay the rent, or buy food, or pay for the car insurance, or put gas into the car.  It doesn't pay for the cat food either.  And let's face it, we'd rather starve ourselves than the cats.

So how about it?  How can I sit here and still claim I have faith in the Lord?  How is it that I believe that this invisible, Being whom I have never seen, is there?  How can I honestly believe that He'll come through for us?  Especially since I prayed so hard for us to get these jobs we applied for, that we interviewed for, jobs that we did not get.

And I admit, it's hard sometimes.  It's very hard when you've just walked away from an interview thinking that the positive responses you've gotten are a good indication you've gotten the job.  It's hard when you either don't get the call saying congratulations, or you get the e-mail saying sorry but we've decided not to hire you at this time, you are free to try again in 6 month's time.  It's hard because you don't see how it is that your prayers are being answered.  And when you hear nothing from god but wait, wait, wait... it's get very frustrating.

It's frustrating when you just don't know what you're going to do when the landlord wants his money on the first, or when the cupboards show nothing but rice, and potatoes and when there's nothing in the fridge save for old milk and there's nothing but bags of frozen chicken in the freezer.  You start to think of all the ways you can save on money.  We can buy less coffee, I can cut back on Diet Coke.  Which we've already done.  We can stop getting snacks.  Also done.  We can get just the basics, chicken, frozen veg, and some starch.  Done.  We can cancel our phone... nope, internet.  shucks.  We really don't need a landline but we really do need that internet.

I have to admit it gets very frustrating to hear nothing but WAIT.  I don't want to wait.  We've been waiting.  Wait and have faith.  It makes you want to scream, yell, rant and rave.  How is it Lord, that other people have jobs?  How is it that other people manage just fine?  How is it that other people seem to be getting along all right?  How do they do it Lord?  how is it that someone can leave their job and hop straight into another one?  You're not asking them to wait, to have patience.  Why?  Why are you asking it of us?  What then, is wrong with us?  Are we such horrible people that the mere thought of employing someone else is better than employing us?  Do we need a lesson in humility?

And yet I still have faith.  I have anger, I have frustration, I have all of it.  But I still have faith.  Because God does provide.

Just last month Mark & I had nothing.  We had just enough money to either pay for our rent or pay for car insurance but not both.  Oh, and we had just run out of food.  Joy.  We could get food, pay rent, or pay for the car insurance.  No insurance means we legally cannot have a car on the road.  We have no garage to store the car.  And, even if we did, we'd have to register the car as not no the road, and send in our road tax disc (for which we'd get a refund of unused tax).  In frustration, I turn to my amazing mother who then sends us some money.  I did not ask for it, seek it or even think of asking for help.  I know Mummy is broke as well... what with being a teacher in CA and all...

But she sent it all the same.  We were able to pay our rent, pay for our insurance and get food.  And the food we bought is still keeping us going.  So, again, Thank you Mommy!  May you ever be praised!

And now a new month has dawned and we will need to pay our rent, the gas I think we won't have to worry about this month but we still have the electricity to pay.  Then there's the internet bill, money for the  mobile phones, cat food and everything else.  And then we both did not get the jobs we were praying for.

And yet, I still have faith.  No, I have no idea where we're going to get the nearly £700 we need each month.  We don't have £500 coming each month, yet alone 700.  And yet the Lord is still saying to me, patience, have faith.  He will provide.  I don't see it.  I can't.  I can't see beyond my problems, I can't see beyond today what tomorrow will bring.  Who knows, maybe we'll go outside, find a £1 coin in the gutter, put it on a lotto ticket and win several £million in the lottery.  I doubt it, very seriously, as we just don't have that kind of luck.  But somehow, someway, He will give us what we need to make it through another month.

All it requires is a little bit of that funny thing called Faith.  And why do I have it?  Because, He has brought us thus far and I can't imagine that He'd bring us all this way just to abandon us when we need Him the most.

The Loo, Cheers Mate

The Gunton & I were watching the TV show Dexter and in the second season there is an episode when the British character, Lila, says she has to go to the loo.  For the few of you who live under a rock, the loo is a British expression for the bathroom.  In fact, the British seem to have many expressions and euphemisms for the porcelain throne.  And yet I hear none of them.

In the States we frequently say restroom, bathroom, the ladies', the gents' and on occasion we might even use the expression the facilities.  And we might even adopt a few British terms such as the loo.  I know that my mother uses the term the loo frequently.  One thing we don't say however, is the toilet.  The toilet is the thing upon which we do our business (see what I did there?).  When in a restaurant one never sees a sign pointing out the toilets.  We don't ask our children if they have to go to the toilet.

And yet, for the six months I've been in the UK I have not once heard anyone here refer to the bathroom as the loo, the bathroom, the restroom the ladies' the gents' the anything other than the toilet.  Mark's told me that the loo is something that people use to say to children but it has, in recent years, fallen into disuse.

In the States referring to the bog as the toilet is crass and undignified to our ears.  We don't like the sound of it and we definitely would not have a sign in our restaurant that reads 'toilet'.  When I asked The Gunton about it not being crass to their ears he replied, "We're English, that's what we do."

So the next time you hear someone who is supposed to be British use the term Loo on TV or whatnot you can suspect that the writer might not be all too hip on current expressions for the crapper.

This then led me to think about other things that are typically British and it brings me to the word Cheers. I can already hear you groaning and begging me to please not ruin another assumption about the British.  No, I'm not.  When we use Cheers, it's usually only when we're lifting a pint and raising a toast to someone or something.  The Irish say Slianté, the Germas have Prost and we share Cheers with the British.  But they use it far more than something to say when drinking a pint of Pimms.

Cheers means 'Thanks' or 'Thank you'.  When getting off the bus it is perfectly acceptable to say cheers to the bus driver as you get off.  If someone hands you a cup of tea a simple cheers is all that's required.  In fact, I hear cheers far more than I hear thank you.  I think the only people who say thank you are non-natives such as myself.  Of course, you have to say it with the dropped R that is so much a part of the various British accents or else it doesn't sound right.  You can't say it like an American with those hard Rs or else it sounds really, really bad.  As you can imagine I always say thank you.

Mate is an interesting one.  When we think of using the word mate we usually think of Australia.  Every American born tries to do his best Mick Dundee with a 'good'ay mate' and we fail usually.  Mate is a very common term used here as well, which might not surprise some of you.  I am still thrown off when people refer to their friends as mates because my mind goes to a different meaning automatically.  In Hull people will use mate when speaking to anyone.  Where we would say, 'thanks man', the Hullians will say 'cheers mate'.

An interesting thing about 'mate' though is that its use is cultural. As I said, in Hull, it isn't uncommon to hear someone call anyone mate as would say 'man' to a stranger.  Mark's paternal family, however, comes from an area in London where ones uses it only to close friends and family.  While he will call his father, cousins, uncle, and son mate, he calls the stranger on the street buddy or pal.

So there you have it, a few interesting tidbits about typical British expressions that you might or might not have known or cared.

Until next time-

EHM

Getting a UK Driver's License

So you're from the US and you want to drive in the UK.  It's not as bad as it sounds and you will get used to driving on the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road.  It just takes a bit of practice and time.

If you are going to be in the UK for no more than 12 months after first arriving then don't get a UK DL.  You won't need to.  You are legally allowed to drive on your US DL for up to 12 months after arriving.  If you plan on getting a car, there will be a few companies that will give you insurance though some will not.  If you get a quote from Admiral ignore it, they only insure UK license holders... despite what the online quote gives you.  If you plan on being and driving in the UK past the 12 month mark, then pay attention, you need to know how to go about getting one.

1.  Go to the local DLVA office.  You can find them for England, Scotland, and Wales.  You pay a £50 fee for the provisional license.  They will ask you for your current DL and your passport.  The DVLA will take them but they will mail them back to you and they will return to the address you provide about the same time as your card arrives.  If there isn't a local DVLA then you can go to the Post Office and ask them for an application for a provisional license.  Fill out the form, submit your passport and you can mail it off.  Just read the directions.  Fortunately there was a DVLA office just half an hour away so I was able to head there.  If you do end up having to submit your DL have no fear, you can still drive.  If you get pulled over by the police you can show them your receipt (if you went into an office) or inform them that your DL is in the mail and they will probably inform you that you need to show up at the police station in X amount of time to show proof.

2.  Once you have your provisional DL you will now need to take the Theory Test.  This is nothing like the written test we all took ages ago.  This test is £31 each time you have to take it so I suggest you study. There are several apps for the iPhone to help you in this endeavour.  I downloaded the official DSA theory app as well as the AA's theory app as well as a few others that were free.  There is computer software out there you can buy to help you pass but really, I think that these apps are just fine.  Each of these apps has a study section to them.  Learn them and then take the tests for each section.  Once you have done this then take the mock tests.  You will be given 50 questions to answer in 57 minutes.  In your test you will have the option of going back and checking your answers.  Feel free to apply for your exam at the earliest time and then study, study, study, study.  You can't take the practice tests too many times.  There is a second portion to the theory test and this is known as the hazard test.  You will be given 14 clips with a hazard, one clip has 2.  You must mark when the hazard starts.  You will be given 0-5 points depending on when you spot the hazard.  There are apps to help you with this portion of the test as well.  You will be there for a couple of hours.  As I said, it's not easy, so be prepared.

3.  Once you've passed your theory I would advise that you sign up for some driving lessons.  I know that you've been driving for ages and you've gotten a feel for being on the wrong side of the road but the UK driving test is £62 each time you take it and it isn't easy.  It's hard, it's really hard  A driving instructor will show you what you need to know in order to pass the exam.  If you have never reversed into a side road, then it's probably best to hire someone who knows what is on the test and what you need to do, such as put the handbreak on whenever you come to a stop light.  Not doing that could end up failing you.  Once you and your instructor feel as if you're ready then go ahead and book your test.  You will need your Theory pass certificate number so don't lose that piece of paper!  You are allowed 16 faults on your driving exam.  I passed mine with 13.  Do note that you will be asked to sign your exam sheet stating you've been in the UK for at least 185 days.  If you are a US citizen then you don't have to worry about that.  Just let your examiner know that you haven't been and you don't have to have been in the UK for 185 days (6 months).  He'll probably have to double check but all you should have to do is cross out the 185 days.  Although, if you are from the EU then you would have to have been in the UK for 185 days... but then, if you're from the EU and have a DL issued from a country in the EU then you can just exchange your DL for a UK one.

It is important to make it clear that everyone in the UK drives a manual.  In fact, they think Americans are pretty lame for having so many automatics and I can't argue.  It is pretty lame.  If you have never driven a stick before then a driving instructor will teach you.  They have lots of practice with teaching people how to drive a manual so don't fret.  They know what they're doing.  You will have to find an instructor with an automatic if that's the path you really want.  And if it is then do be aware that if you take your driving test in an automatic you will only be legally allowed to drive an automatic.  But if you take your driving test in a manual, you can drive both.  And do make note that not all instructors or companies are the same.  I, personally, would go with the AA.  They are the UK's version of AAA.

Driving Test

I should have had my UK driver's license already.  I had a test on the 20 of January that didn't exactly go according to plan.  I had had a 2 hour session from a qualified AA driving instructor just so I know what would be expected of me in the exam.  I also had him examine the car to make sure that it was okay to take the test in.  He said the car looked fine on the outside and that he sees no concerns about me passing my test.  Cool.  I was ready for it, I was going to kick some serious driving test butt!

Apparently, a faulty light is all that it takes to terminate an exam.  Drat.  I was, to say the least, bumbed for several days.  I really wanted that DL and NOW!

I came home and immediately got another test for the earliest test date, which was today, 2-15-12... joy.  I tried to get in touch with my original driving instructor so I could use his perfectly working vehicle for the exam, but I was unable to get a hold of him via phone calls or text so I asked The Gunton if his instructor wouldn't mind.  Heretofore I shall now refer to Mark's Driving Instructor as The Win.  The Win showed up about 7:10 this morning with the greetings of good evening.  The sun wasn't completely up yet and what little was there, was hiding behind clouds.  The Win hands me the key to the car, verifies I do, in fact, have everything I need for the exam today and tells me to drive off.

Immediately he finds things that I am doing wrong and he tells me.  I'm not steering correctly.  There is a push-pull method that he's been teaching the Gunton.  It's the safest way to steer.  So I had to be mindful of that.  And I wasn't using my mirrors in the correct order.  When turning right, rearview, left mirror, right mirror- or something like that.  I also wasn't using the handbreak properly.  I was using it at a red light, like a good girl, but I wasn't looking around before releasing it and going forward.  For that hour The Win patiently corrected me, told me what I am doing wrong and told me what I needed to do in order to pass this test.

If anyone were to ask either The Gunton or myself, one would know that I was very nervous and anxious about my upcoming test.  I know of an American woman who has been here for ages and while she eventually passed her Theory test, she has yet to pass her driving test.  What would make me think I could pass mine??

I had an hour with The Win.  At one point he told me to reverse parallel park.  I don't parallel park, there's a reason for that.  Little Brother is one of those annoying people who can get into a teeny, tiny space, and do it perfectly, without much manoeuvring.  I am not he.  The Win then had me reverse into a street.  I still don't understand why they test for that but they do.  Apparently this is a skill set that is seen as important here in the UK.  He had a few comments but, as the hour was coming to a close, he needed to get me onto the road and towards the test center.  He then had be back into a parking spot.  Now, this has always been something I have been able to do easy peasy.  For some reason it seems to be a challenge... maybe because the few times I've done it have been trying to prove that I can back into a spot and I do pay attention when I do.  The Win then went over a few items that the Test Man might ask me.

The first thing the Test Man did is to check my eyesight.  I had to read the plates of a car that was about 20 meters away.  My eyesight is obviously good, else I'd have been told I need glasses.  So far, so good.  He then tells me to go ahead and get into the car as he went around it and checked the condition of the machine.  The Win thought it'd be good for the Gunton to be in the car with me, and, as I was allowed to have someone come along for the ride, he agreed. Of course, he had to act as if he wasn't there, could not react to anything I was doing, could not look around and distract me, could not, in fact, behave in any manner that there was a third person in the car.  If he had, the test would be terminated.  The only time I remembered that he was there was when I looked into the rearview mirror.

The second part of the test is what is known as the Show Me, Tell Me.  The Test Man can ask how do can you tell the oil level, the break fluid level, the window washer level.  These are all done under the hood and you point to the appropriate thing and explain how you'd check the levels.  He might ask about horns and break lights... there are a lot he might ask.  This is general information to see if you know anything about cars.  They don't expect you to be a mechanic, just able to determine whether or not you know a few things.  I was asked how to turn the high beams on.  Because this is a Show Me, I had to turn the electricity on show him I knew how to do that.  The Win didn't show me the lights on his car but, as this was a Ford Focus, I figured it out.  Yes, the AA's standard instructor car is the Ford Focus.  He then also asked me how I would tell if there was something wrong with the break and I told them there would be an indicator light on the dashboard.  Where, I didn't know.  And I suppose that was alright because then he told me to head out when I was ready.  I took a deep breath and tried to remember everything The Win tried to get me to change in just 60 minutes.

I have a problem with crossing my arms when I'm turning the wheel, and I had to remember not to do that.  I caught myself several times about to do it then I corrected myself.  The Win told me that it would be a fault each and every time I crossed my arms over.  I musta done something right because the Test Man only marked me down once for it.  Yes!  The next part of the test was independent driving.  This is to test whether or not you can follow street signs.  The Test Man had me pull over to the side, when it was safe to do so.  It didn't seem safe to me as there were cars trying to get to work but, he insisted so I stopped.  The Win told me I needed to make sure I was obvious in my use of mirrors as I was pulling over.  And I needed to stop, pull up on the handbreak and then put the car in neutral.  This was an indication that I had completed a manoeuvre.  He wanted me to drive towards Cottingham.  So I followed the signs towards Cottingham.  On the first roundabout I made a mental note that I needed to turn right.  On the second round about, I voiced that Cottingham was the 4th exit and then I counted each exit, and, on the fourth one I looked around, checked my mirrors (not necessarily in the proper order), indicated and moved out.  I did get us to Cottingham.  Another part of this is that you have to remember a set of directions.  Mine were to turn right at the end of the street, right at the end of that street and left at the roundabout.  That was the conclusion of the independent driving.

The next thing he tested me on was the reversal.  This could be one of three things: reverse into a parking spot, reverse parallel parking or something else.  The Test Man had me reverse parallel park.  I mentioned before I don't parallel park, and I certainly don't reverse parallel park.  I don't like it, I don't do it.  Again, I am not Little Brother.  Maybe if I had more training with it I could it with more comfort.  The requirements for this are, you have to reverse parallel park in front of another car reversing no more than two car lengths.  I did it, came to a stop, put on the handbreak and he looks at me and says, are you finished?  And I said, yes?  And he replied, are you sure?  And I replied, no.  So I reversed some more and he was satisfied with this and then he told me to go off whenever I was ready.  I did the panoramic sweep, checked the mirrors, placed the car into first, got to the biting point (when the car is perfectly balanced between the clutch and gas) and a car came, looked about again and a car pulled out a driveway.  Finally I was able to go.  A second part of this was to pull up behind a car.  That I could do.

And then we were back on the road and he takes me to an intersection and I see Beverly Road!  Hey, I know where that is!  I live just off of Beverley Road!  He gives me directions and I realize that it's getting quite late and he is sending me back to the test center, as is confirmed when he has me turn left onto Clough Road.

I pull into the parking lot and Test Man wants to know if it's okay for Mark to be there and if I would like to have The Win there as well.  So I say, sure and I indicate to The Win that he should come forward.  Test Man was running late so he went through what he needed to go through at the end of the test.  You are allowed 16 faults and he said that I need more practice.  I said, yeah, I know.... there are things I need to work on.

But ya know, don't care.  Have license.

Had I taken the test on the 20th, I realize now that I would have failed.  The other guy never corrected me with my steering, never told me I needed to correct my behaviors when coming off of the break.  All these things The Win told me to correct to pass my test the other never told me.  The Win suggested to the Gunton that when in the car, he politely remind me that I am not steering in the correct, proper and safe manner.  I dunno if I am going to be overly fussed about that to be honest.  I will, however, probably continue to put the hand break on when at a red light.  It is safer, it's not a big deal and it does allow one to take one's foot off the pedals and relax for a few minutes until the light turns green... or rather, yellow then green as it does here in the UK.

So yeah, that's why he's now called The Win.  Because if he hadn't insisted on that hour before the exam, I'd have failed it.  

A Family, Interrupted Part the Second

So another year, another visit with my darling, beloved children, snatched from my arms by the cold, heartless SS brownshirts on basis of the incoherent ravings of a mad woman.

It was raining most of the day, but I wasn't overly concerned. Even though Emily is still unable to drive Ticker*, I was looking forward to seeing the kids. I had a couple bags full of activities, paper and coloring pencils, odds and sods for making stuff, a pack of Harry Potter playing cards and Frustration! Also, I had another bag with two sets of Christmas PJs that sadly did not arrive for the last visit (thanks, Mom!), a carton of strawberry milk, chocolate chip cookies and Marshmallow Peeps. I ordered a taxi and arrived fifteen minutes before the kids arrived and only a few minutes before the new social worker. We went through to the meeting room where I was going to see the kids and we spent a few moments shifting the table and chairs aside to allow a bit more space. And then, strangely, the social worker actually decided to socialise with me!!!

Yes, dear reader, the new social worker actually decided to sit down and have a pleasant chat with me, the terrible, awful, monstrous creature that caused the lunatic to go mad and the children into foster care (that's me I'm describing, not her). We had a chat about Christmas and other sundry subjects while we sat and kept an eye out for the kids' taxi. It was then that she told me she'd had a call from the foster carer. Caleb had not been to school today because he'd said he was ill, so he might not be attending the visit. I was quite concerned that he was okay, and a little sad that I might miss seeing him. She did say that if Caleb perked up in the afternoon, the foster carer would bring him to contact and, sure enough, as Rhiannon's taxi arrived, so too did the foster carer's car bearing a surprisingly well-looking Caleb (I'd insert a emote with a suspicious raised eyebrow). Again surprises abounded as the social worker asked if I'd like to go meet them, while she stayed behind and watched from the main door! Rhiannon bounded over and slipped her pink gloved hand into mine and we all walked into the room for our time together. As usual, Rhiannon was none-too-forthcoming with how things were going at school (gotta love that location appropriate conversation that comes with her autism...), but I did find out that she's doing well in her school subjects and, although the library isn't properly open at school, she's still reading like books are going out of fashion. She also told me about Groundswatch or somesuch, a group of conservationists trying to save the British wildlife or green areas or something. She didn't go into that so much, because she'd been hauled out to go do her 'intervention work' with her personal tutor.

Caleb was a bit cagey when it came to explaining why he was too poorly to go to school, but suddenly well enough to come see me. Well, whatever. Secretly, I'm glad he wasn't so ill that I'd miss seeing his cheeky face. He went to telling me about his favorite car that is 'faster than a Ferrari' and 'twice as big too'. I asked if it was a Bugatti Veyron, a car that I secretly have yearnings for and he replied that it was 'a green supercar'. So anything from the Aston Martin DBS to the Pagani Zonda.... They were both impressed when I told them that I was doing my driving lessons, Caleb asked if I'd passed yet and I said, "not yet, but on the upside I've not crashed yet". Rhiannon thought this was a very good thing. I gave them their Christmas PJs, saying that they were supposed to be for opening their presents in on Christmas Day, but they'd not arrived in time. Mom, I don't know how, but you guessed their sizes exactly. No doubt, they'll not fit in a year's time, but that's kids for you! At this point, Caleb asked if I had the pictures. I thought he was referring to the two rather wistful framed photos I'd gotten as a Christmas present from them, so I said that I had them safe at home. He told me "no, not those ones" and produced a packet of photographs from Rhiannon's school bag. Lo and behold! photos of the kids from Christmas and Rhiannon's birthday! We went through them and I felt, not for the first time, just how much I was missing their lives. Oh, my darling children, one day we'll be together again....

Caleb then started rattling on about a variety of subjects in his own inimitable fashion and Rhiannon decided to dive into her favorite thing, books. I turned to drink. Strawberry milk, choc chip cookies and Marshmallow Peeps. The kids decided to do impersonations of bath drains by slurping their milk, which made us all giggle and since we were all doing a little bit of everything and nothing, I decided I'd take the bull by the horns and made some suggestions.

"Do you want us all to do drawing and coloring, playing a game or something else?"

Rhiannon said, "Something else."

"Like what?", I replied.

"Like reading?", she replied, a hopeful smile and sidelong glance toward the book she'd just been browsing on her face.

"Well,", I replied, "we don't have long and you can read at any time. Wouldn't it be nicer to do stuff together?"

No answer but her definitive nod made my day. So we settled down to play Frustration! A great game, full of highs, lows and me whining and moaning every time my pieces got sent 'home'. In the end we had to cut it short because our time was up, but the kids had managed to get a draw. We packed away and Caleb tried to escape with my backpack, but at the door he handed it back, took his spoils (a couple of the cookies and what was left of the strawberry milk). They headed out, but then both came back to give me a huge hug and Rhiannon went away waving and blowing kisses.

Once they were in their taxi and gone, the social worker came back and said that she'd had no problems or concerns and felt that the visit had been as natural as if she'd not been there. Maybe this is a sign of good things in the future.

Let's hope and pray it's so.

*Ticker is our Hyundai Lantra with the dodgy driver's side window.

A Family, Interrupted Part 1

So,

The day before the night before Christmas,

And all through the Reichstag*

Not a Brownshirt was stirring,

Not even The Biatch...**

But outside, Emily and I pull up in our reliable car, Ticker. The boot [translation: trunk] is filled with an assortment of Yuletide goodies and two HUGE sacks from Santa. The rain is falling, but I hardly notice because as I get out I look across the car park [trans.: parking lot] to see a minivan [trans.:minivan] with two excited-looking Guntons in it. I heft out the enormous Santa sacks and the bag full of snacks and start to head to the SS office.

I'm expecting that the foster carer is going to pin the kids in place until I'm safely within-doors, but against my expectations, the kids are unleashed and they instantly rush to catch up with me. They are obviously on a huge high, Rhiannon has a skip in her step and Caleb just cannot stop grinning. He tells me that he has a present for me, showing me it from where he had been hiding it behind his back. Rhiannon also has a Christmas present, but she is making no attempt to hide it and she's carrying it proudly. They also have Christmas cards and Caleb just cannot wait to give me his. I shoo them into the office, because the rain has started to get even heavier. No sign of the new social worker (not sure if she's a Brownshirt as of yet, withholding judgement until I've had more contact with her), so I sign in and as I'm doing that, I hear the carer say, "If you keep grinning like that, you'll tear your cheeks." I turn to see both kids grinning ear to ear and looking at me, so I sit opposite them and Caleb trots over and hands me his Christmas card. The envelope says 'Dad' in his inimitable handwriting and I delve into one of the Santa sacks to give him my card back. Rhiannon gives me her card, the envelope of which has careful joined-up writing, so I open Caleb's first. He's painted it bright blue and written 'Merry Christmas' right in the center. He's a lefty so, obviously, he's made his card right-side opening. Surprised me, I had to figure it out without the aid of a safety net. I get the card open and it says:

"Dear Dad

Merry

Christmas!

Love from

Caleb

XXX'

I thank him for the lovely card and open Rhiannon's card. She'd gummed the envelope shut, so I had to tear open the top. Her card has a lovely snowman drawn on the front and says 'Merry Christmas!' across the top. Inside, it says:

"Dear Dad

Merry christmas

Love

Rhiannon

XXX"

Yes, truly the sentiments of two children who supposedly fear their father...

I thank them both for the beautiful cards and tell them that they are the best cards I've had all year. The social worker arrives and we all traipse to the room we have booked. I ask to be allowed to play some Christmas tracks I've sync-ed to the iPhone (thank you again, Mumsy!) and I am allowed (so far, so good..). So to the dulcet, helium-enhanced tones of Alvin and the Chipmunks, we set about the serious business of Christmas present unwrapping. First out of the bag is Rhiannon's toy, a police station for some battery-powered guinea pig/hamster-things (I suppose they're more sanitary than the real animals) and Caleb gets.... SENTINEL PRIME!!! First shock of the day, the kids have seen the extremely violent third Transformers movie. I'm more than a little upset that Caleb dwelt upon a Transformer that 'turned people to skeletons'. A strong word to be had with the social worker regarding the appropriateness of what they are allowed to watch shall be had in the near future...

Next comes the arts-and-crafts things, Rhiannon's crochet set and Caleb's paint-a-birdbox set. Rhiannon is instantly enthralled by the idea of crochet-ing and I encourage her by saying that once she's done with all the yarn in the set, she can buy more and make other things. Caleb's looking at his birdbox box with his nose wrinkled in disgust. When I ask him what's up, he says "The painting on the pictures is horrible. I could do better."

With a smile, I told him, I bet he could and it'd be a lucky bird that would get to live in the box once he'd finished decorating it. Caleb liked that! Next came Rhiannon's crocheted bag and it's contents, a wallet and three sticks of lipbalm. The lipbalm is an instant hit, considering Rhiannon's habit of licking her lips and ending up with them chapped. She instantly applied a layer of 'Very Cherry' and smiled. Caleb opened a box to find his wallet, belt, watch/compass and pen set. This is all VERY cool, especially the watch, which he straps on immediately and starts figuring out which direction he is facing. Once he decides we are facing South-East, he opens his wallet to find three dollar bills, a nearly complete 'Royal Crest' set of British coins (all they need to find is the fifty-pence coin) and a whole £10. This, I tell him, is to buy his sister a special present. He smiles and nods. Something tells me he might have something in mind for her...

Rhiannon then opens her wallet and finds exactly the same as Caleb found in his. Lucky, lucky, lucky! She seems to know what she might like to get Caleb, but she doesn't give the game away. I called a pause at that point and pour out three cups of strawberry milkshake [trans.: strawberry milk] and then pull out the snacks and treats from the bag. There was: two boxes of Cracker Jacks, a pack of snowman Marshmallow Peeps, another pack of Christmas tree Marshmallow Peeps, three Twinkies, twelve candy canes and a bag of candy corns. Rhiannon is immediately drawn to the Twinkies and manages to get two thirds of one in her mouth in one bite. The om-nom-nom-ing told me that she was enjoying it immensely. That and the blissful, puffy-cheeked grin she gave me. Caleb was more circumspect, enthralled by SENTINEL PRIME!!!, so I had to encourage him to try something. In the end, a Peep Christmas tree was his first try and it lasted all of a couple of seconds before his eyes lit up and he was reaching for a second. The next thing to catch Rhiannon's eye was the Cracker Jacks. I asked, off-handed if they liked popcorn. Yeah! was the reply. Did they like peanuts? Yeah!! Do they like caramel? Yeah!!! Then they'll probably like Cracker Jacks. And as an added bonus, there's a prize in the box too. Rhiannon needed no further encouragement and dug into a box. I managed to get a few pieces of popcorn before she finished the rest. I think they were a hit.

Refueled with milkshake and candy, we dived into the seemingly bottomless sacks for more gifts. Rhiannon got a drinks bottle to match her wallet and Caleb got a huge great box. As Rhannon figured out how to open her bottle, Caleb demolished the wrapping on his present to descover, a Build-a-Bear! Named Timmy, he came with a soldier's camo suit, shiny boots, bear tags and a beret. He also had a £10 gift card to buy some new clothes. More arts-and-crafts things, Fimo modeling clay and Play-doh! Wouldn't it be a shame if that ended up smooshed all in the carer's carpets? >:D

Oh joy, Caleb's found out that not only does SENTINEL PRIME!!! declare his name loudly and proudly, but he also has a loud siren. That'll be a wonderful thing to hear early on a Sunday morning....

Rhiannon opens her next present, it's a bright and cheerful scarf and gloves! She instantly decides to put her gloves on, but wisely takes them off when she started on her Christmas tree Peeps. She also has a lovely book of classic stories and she gasps with delight at this. Caleb finds he has a cheeky monkey earmuff-hat and a Star Wars Lego book set. It's awesome! because he can make robots and spaceships and soldiers. Wearing his hat, he makes a face and asks, "Do I look silly?" I tell him, "No, the monkey is making the same face you do. He's winking."

Caleb take it off, looks at it then, with a grin, winks cheekily at me.

Now I get a chance to open my presents and I start with Caleb's. He's had a sourdough volcano-candle holder, painted to look like it's erupting and complete with red and yellow glitter 'lava' pouring down the side. I am very impressed with it and I tell him so. Caleb's grin is huge. Next I open Rhiannon's present and it's a pair of large framed photos of them both. To say they don't appear all that cheerful is an understatement. In Rhiannon's picture, she has the edges of a smile, but her expression is very neutral. Caleb's picture has him resting his head on his right hand and there is no sign of a smile. These are supposed to be children who are happy in their foster placement? Really? Could have fooled me.

Even the picture from their 'holiday' showed a very unenthusiastic pair of smiles. Four photos of them over a whole year. After the SS had agreed to provide me with pictures of 'significant events'.

As we opened presents, Caleb told me that he'd been in the school choir and had sung 'The Little Drummer Boy' which was playing on the iPhone. I asked him if he'd had fun doing that and he says he had. Rhiannon was quiet at this point, listening to the music while she played with SENTINEL PRIME!!!'s shield-gun-thing. I asked her if she was okay, and she nodded quietly, smiling at me. The smile got bigger when I told her that I loved them both and that I had had the best Christmas present ever, spending time with them together.

Finally our time together came to an end, the social worker telling us it was dead on twelve o'clock. To their credit, the kids were fantastic, helping me pack everything away into bags for them to take back to their house.

I don't know how to take this new social worker. She questioned me about the candies and treats from the States and I'd said Emily's mum (hi, Mom!) and sister (hi, Elizabeth!) had sent them and we'd decided to let the kids have some because we could not possibly get through it all by ourselves. She didn't raise any problems with the contact, even though her pen didn't seem to stop moving the whole time. I'll just have to wait and see the report in the New Year to see whether she's taken what the last Brownshirt said as Gospel and Verse or if sh's formed her own opinions of me. Who can say what miracles the New Year may bring?

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!!!

SENTINEL PRIME!!!

*SS office.

**So it don't rhyme, meh...

Boobs, Brews & Booths

The weekend started out well enough, sanely enough.  Mark and I drove up to Harrogate after my class on Friday afternoon but, as we needed a few, last minute items we didn't manage to leave Hull until sometime after four.  It was dark and there are lots of speed cameras on the A1079,  which is the main road through Hull.  I've only been driving on UK roads for about a month but, as one person said, if you can drive in Hull, you can drive anywhere... I've cut my british driving teeth driving in Hull so I figured I am good to go... I've even figured out their weird roundabouts... or so I thought.  We got lost, once, because I took the wrong exit off a roundabout.  But then, they're really confusing!  You come to a roundabout and they have two lanes and you have to get into different lanes depending on which exit you're going to take... after a while I managed to figure it out a bit.  We only got lost once.  Well, I took the wrong exit, so I suppose that's not exactly getting lost is it?  We eventually turned around, and returned to the roundabout where I took the correct exit.  According to the satnav, the trip should have taken about an hour and a half for a 70 mile journey.  About 6, I figured we were almost there and sure enough, we were approaching Harrogate.

There was one last roundabout before we got to Rudding Park, the lands where the hotel and golf course were on.  Mark was telling me to go straight through (second exit) while the road signs were saying to turn left (first exit).  I slowed down and we had a brief discussion over what we should do.  In the end he argued that his instructions said to go straight so I ignored the road signs and trusted the satnav.  It's dark and we're hungry so I was really, really hoping that the phone was correct.  It was.  A nice, big, sign welcomed us to what was probably once ancestral lands which is Rudding Park.  And then there was even a smaller sign saying Reception.  And this, my friends, is when we found out just how good good service could be.

After driving over the roundabout marker, which was, to be honest, not very clear in the dark, we pulled up to the front in the expectation that we'd register, they'd give us a map to our room, hand us our key and fare thee well.  No.  Service here was amazing.  Mark and I come in, all disheveled from the day and we get to the counter and the staff not only register us but they take our keys, park our car, bring in our luggage, carry our luggage to our room, open our door, set our stuff down and leave before we could even think of offering them a tip.  Wow.  We then unpack, what little we planned on doing and now we need to find the parental units as the Gunton males and the gents were getting together in the groom's lodge that had been reserved for him while the Gunton women and the ladies were getting together in the bridal suite.  After a bit of looking we find Uncle Phil who shows Dad, Mark and me to the Bridal suite where the other ladies are already.

 I then got to meet my future cousin-in-law and the lady of the weekend, Shaf.  The men eventually go off and do their things while we ladies make our way down to the restaurant for a bite to eat.  About this time I checked my phone and saw that I had a text from Mark: You are so lucky, I'm on a death march through the icy cold looking for a place that may or may not exist.  If I die before morning, I want you to know I love you...  I showed it to the other ladies who laughed at the humor and went awwwww at the end of the message.  Oh yeah, that's my guy, she said with a self-satisfied smirk.  Again, the staff was amazing.  The drinks were ordered, delivered and then our food was ordered and, after a while, the staff comes through the door and it's not just one person who is delivering our dinner-but several.  I had a steak with chips (read: steak fries) which were quite lovely once I added a bit of salt to them.  Sadly my Diet Coke eventually diminished and I was left wanting more.

After much more merriment and champagne for all, we toasted the bride, gabbed about the following day and then Mark texted me again telling me he was outside the girls' den.  I met him, brought him back to the ladies' sanctuary where he got compliments for his witty and romantic text.  After a little while we decided we were done for the night, bade the ladies good night and retired to our room for the rest of the night.  I do no have any pictures of the day because my phone was close to dying after being in constant use all day and the battery to the camera itself had died.

The following morning we went down to breakfast.

The rest of the Gunton clan came down a bit later.  Mark & I both had the Yorkshire breakfast which included eggs to order, black pudding, baked beans, fried tomato, field mushrooms, Yorkshire sausage, bacon and toast.

 I turned my nose up at the mushrooms and the pudding and Mark called me all sorts of unsavory names a gentleman does not call a lady.  Be quiet Gunton!  I am not afraid of it, I just refuse to eat blood is all.  To be honest, I didn't really like the eggs as they were way too... moist.  My mother and sister and Auntie know what I'm talking about.  Once we had finished our breakfast we joined the other Guntons and sat talking about this, that and another thing until everyone got up to either get ready or to run into town really fast.  Friends of Phil & Ann, Bill & Helen offered to take us into town as they were going to Sainsbury (store) to get a few things.  Turns out that Mark & I found cold Diet Coke and coffee, which we both needed.  There are no fridges in the hotel room so I was caffeine deprived.

Mark & I then returned to our room where we got ready for the wedding which was due to start at 1.  We decided we were going to be Victorian as modern just is not us.  I think Mark looked absolutely amazing in his clothing.  He really did look like quite the gentleman.  And I love my skirt!  A lot of people asked us if we had rented our clothes and no, we didn't.  We've been shopping around for months, trying to find what we wanted for the smallest price possible.  The beauty of it is that we'll be able to wear these for all sorts of occasions now.

Now then, a bit after one the wedding went underway.  One might think that, being American, our wedding traditions would be similar to British wedding ceremonies and while this is so in many ways, there are several differences that threw me for a loop.  The groomsman, like ours, were the ushers.  This was a formal wedding and while I expected the ushers to take my arm and lead us to our seats they instead asked us our side and we said groom and then were instructed to take a seat on the right though the first and second rows were reserved for family... we are family... we sat in the second row with Bill & Helen.  The ushers, once everyone had come into the room where the wedding was held, took seats in the front row instead of standing with the groom.  The only person with him was his best man.

Once the wedding party came in, the ring bearer came up to the best man, handed him the pillow then found a parent and stayed there.  Kids are so cute.  The bride came next and behind her were her ladies.  Like the groom, the only person who stayed up with her was her maid-of-honor.

At the front were two tables where a woman who was filling out the registry, which made the marriage in that place and that location legal and then the woman preforming the ceremony.  In the States you can get married anywhere, the thing that makes it legal is the person performing the ceremony.  In the UK, the ceremony site has to be registered as a marriage site or else the ceremony can't be legal.  They also have to legally ask if the bride and groom have come to the wedding of their own accord and if they know of any reason why they cannot be married.  When the officiant asked if there was anyone who knew of any reason why the two couldn't be married Del turned towards the guests and gave a very Gunton look of dire threat and warning.  Everyone who saw it laughed and then she repeated herself saying, ignore his look, if anyone knows why these two should not be married... and then Del turned to the guests again and gave the same angry glare as before.  The Gunton men definitely have a very wicked sense of humor.

Inevitably though, the vows were exchanged, which were much different than ours.  I believe they were traditional vows but not like ours.  They promised to love, honor and respect each other.  I think all the females started to cry.  When the officiant asked Del if he took Shaf he said I do real quick like.  When asking Shaf, she leaned back, wrinkled her brow and nose and went, mmmm.  I don't think Del was worried for a second even as she laughed and said, I do.  They had the entire room laughing during the entire ceremony.  And then it was over and we were kicked out for a very long cocktail hour as the staff turned the room over from the ceremony to the reception.  This is when we took pictures.

See how good my man looks?  This was taken in the library section of the manor house/hotel.  Eventually though we were led into the room again for the reception and it was quite blue.  The theme for the wedding was winter with blue and silver/gray being the colors.  It was really nice and it's obvious that a lot of thought was put into the favors which were at each place setting.  I have to admit that I like having the favors at the table instead of at a different table.  It seemed much more personal.

I was seated between Mark and his cousin Stuart, the brother of the groom.  Those two monsters had me cracking up.  Eventually the starters were served and I had chosen the tomato soup which was very much yummy.  After a while, the dishes were taken and another long wait saw the main meal.  The table save Stuart, had the beef which was a typical sunday roast of a slice of beef, Yorkshire pudding, potatoes and veggies.  That was then eventually followed with dessert and the cutting of the cake.

Then the night got really interesting and it became evident that people were quite drunk.  After dessert Mark and I returned to our room where I changed into something a bit more comfortable as the corset I had on was making it hard to do things easily, like use the ladies' room.  Diet Coke was not in attendance during the wedding but water was and, even though I had used the restroom in our room, nature once more called and I found it necessary to well, use the necessary.  Whilst there I was asked by a woman what was up with my boobs.  I explained that I was wearing a corset earlier and it really does do interesting things to the bust line and that I understood that people were talking about it and wondering.  Not many women wear corsets these days.  Then she wanted to know how big my boobs were.  She was, to put it nicely, a bit toasted.  Unconcerned I told her and she did not believe me as she was sure mine were bigger than hers and she had hers made into Fs.  Sorry darling, mine are what God gave me.  She was not satisified with my answer but she and a friend eventually left and I remained to redo my hair, apply a bit more color to my lips and straighten my shawl.

It was also at this time that I learned that I was the envy of every single woman who was able to see Mark push in my chair each and every time there was a need for me to rise and sit again.  Every time without fail.  He was quite gentlemanly and every single lady who saw that sighed and wished that her man would do the same for her.  hehehehe... suckas.  I saw him first so he's mine.

Upon leaving I hear her call my name and it was my newly made boob friend and she had been regaling some of the ushers about our bra discussion.  From the looks on their pained faces they had learned a bit more about her bra size, my bra size and bra sizes in general.  Apparently she still could not believe that though I looked bigger, hers were.  What can I say?  Someone had tried to explain that the larger the chest size, the cup size goes down by one... she still wasn't buying it.  She left me alone with the men, I laughed and bade them good night, told Mark about it and he rolled his eyes and asked if there was anyone he needed to kill.

I foolishly thought that that was the end of the boob discussion.

If you have recently been to a wedding chances are there was a photobooth where the drunk and disorderly can go in, take pictures of themselves and have a keepsake of their night that will, in the guest book, live on.  My boob friend had, indeed, with a friend taken pictures of her boobs.  Apparently she really wanted to judge the differences in sizes.  Mark and I were in line waiting for our turn when she, even more drunk than before, began the discussion again.  Leaning over, she says to me, without touching, I can't believe you're only a DD, you have to be bigger than me, have you ever been tested?  Upon a negative answer, she told me I had to go to H&M ( a clothing store) and get tested.  She wanted to know how I knew I was the size I was.  Fairly simple really, a D is too small and a DD fits perfectly.  It's not rocket science.  This was not acceptable.  She was sure I am wearing the wrong size.  Then I looked at her, shrugged my shoulders and said, well... I'm coming from American sizes, not British.  She stopped, looked at me and went.  Oh.

There really is no difference between American and British bra sizes.  Almost none.  I don't think she knew that as she finally dropped it.  So let this be a lesson to you folks.  Be careful how much you drink or else the entire wedding guest list will know that you are comparing your bra size to someone who was, until a few hours ago, a complete stranger.

Sunday morning, while the Gunton clan was getting their shoot together, the bra friend walks through the reception with her husband (?) and says, Hi Emily!  I said hello back.  Mark then explains to family members that she was the bra woman.

It was, however, a good time and I had a lovely time and I am so very glad I went.  But as it is now quite late and I need my beauty sleep, I shall bid thee all a good night.

Until the next time-

The Car

So we have a car.

We've had it for almost a month now and I am still quite excited about it.  Mark's parents came to visit us on the 21st of October.  That friday we went to meet a man about his car because he was selling it cheap and I like cheap.  Paul and Colette met us and looked it over and gave us the okay so the following day we gathered up the coin, got the insurance, paid the road tax and we had our car!  Paul drove it home and parked it as I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to drive on the British roads just yet.  They're really strange and backwards and all that, not to mention the car itself.

That's not where I live but Stepney Lane off of which I do live.  And that is my bright blue car.

The following day Mark and his parents piled into the car and proceeded to give me a driving lesson.  The roads are narrow, with cars parked on each side of the road and they have roundabouts which are crazy, insane and nothing like what we know, in CA at least.  My first lesson went okay but Paul kept reminding me that I needed to keep both hands on the wheel and not to have a hand on the stick shift.  He used to be a cop and he drives like one.  In the end, however, they left and it would be up to Mark to help me get used to these British roads and I have to say he has done a fabulous job of it.

A week or so later Mark and I were heading home from my monday class and I made a right hand turn and the engine drops out and suddenly we have no power.  It is all I can do to limp home and park the poor baby.  A few days later the guy I bought it from came over, changed out the spark plugs and changed the oil but nothing worked.

I signed up for the British version of AAA which is, funnily enough, The AA and last weekend I finally got around to calling them to get someone to come out and take a look at the car.  The tow truck came out and the driver was unable to figure out what was wrong as the car was not communicating with his diagnostic thingy.  So he had to tow it to a garage.  The garage is owned by a guy who has been working on cars his entire life and at the sight of him I was sure that if there was one thing he can do, it was work on cars.  To my surprise he told me that he'd call me the following day.  No one is open on a Sunday, at least things we take for granted aren't.  The driver asked me yet again if I can get my way home and tried to tell me which direction to go to in order to get to Beverley (off of which I live).  I had no clue where I was or how to get home but I am a firm believer in my phone's GPS and the power of the cab company to know how to find me and how to get me home.  The tow truck driver must have felt sorry for this poor Californian since he took me back home, right after he made sure I understood that he isn't supposed to drop people back home.  I thanked him profusely, signed the thing he needed me to sign and Mark & I went about our day.

Sure enough Sunday evening I get a call from him telling me that I can come and pick it up the next day.  So Monday morning I call for a taxi and go to pick up my car.  The cabbie engages me in political conversation in which I learn that all the political parties in the UK are all the same... save for one... the anarchists.  The mechanic said that the cam belt was all gungked up and had we driven on it then it could have fried the entire engine.  But now it runs really well and doesn't even complain.  But that doesn't explain how I got from there home.

Now then, I have only been driving in the UK for a very short amount of time and I don't know where everything is yet and, just to make things interesting, they have one way roads!  Isn't that fun?  When the tow truck had taken me home on Saturday he tried to tell me how to get back onto Beverley but he said right on this and right on that and I had no idea what he was saying because I don't know the roads or their names.

I got lost.

At one point I was heading towards the docks and instead of continuing on through to the docks and following it back onto the main drag, I turned around and turned down a few more streets until I managed to somehow, miraculously get onto the main drag and find my way home.  Since then I have managed to get to the St. Stephen's shopping center and back on my own and have I have been able to get Mark to and from work without getting lost either.  We've also gone around town for one thing or another and, thanks to my phone, we've not gotten lost either.

In a couple of weeks we shall be making our way to Harrowgate (no, not sure where it is) for Mark's cousin's wedding and I have every confidence that the car will get us there and back safely.  And then we'll have fun going to Birmingham to spend Christmas with his parents after which we'll head down to Derby to spend Boxing Day with his maternal family and then back home to Hull.

The only problem is, the car does not yet have a name!  Mark & I aren't sure what to name our new baby.

The Money Saga Part II

Or, How to Get a UK Bank Account if you're an International Student


I have written a post about my trials and tribulations in applying for, getting and securing my financial aid for my visa.  For some reason the UK Border Agency (UKBA) wants to make sure that students coming into their country have enough money to pay for their course fees and have enough money to pay for room and board so they don't get onto welfare.  Having succesfully secured a loan, gotten a letter of proof of funds from the university and having got here I then enjoyed the frustrations of trying to get a UK bank account.

Which is not nearly as easy as you might think.

So, for anyone planning on going to the UK for school who are going to open a checking account, please pay attention as I am about to save you a lot of walking, headaches, idiots who don't know what the heck they're doing, what you're doing or what's been done as well as save you from tears of frustration that could lead to homicidal rage-which isn't exactly pretty.

So here is my guide to getting a UK bank account if you're not a British citizen:

1.  Get a letter of introduction from the International Office.
The very first thing you should do when arriving in the UK is to go to the International Office-even before you check out the University itself.  Now, for Hull, the International Office likes to know that their students have arrived.  They even have wristbands you can wear so if anyone from their office sees you looking bewildered  they'll help you out.  I did not wear mine as I had Mark with me.  For Hull, there was a specific day where they had banks to get students bank accounts.

For me I chose Lloyds TSB simply because it's the bank the university uses and it's just down the road from both the International Office and the University-convenient eh?

When I went to open mine, I was told that I needed to go to the branch itself as they knew students were coming.  They knew students were coming and though they were willing to take down some information they still needed those letters. Which brings me to my next hint.

2.  Make sure you have your Passport & Visa on you when trying to open an account

I have seen more than one person turned away because they didn't have their passport on them.  Don't let this happen to you.  And no, a passport card or a DL isn't going to work.  You need the same passport and visa you used to get through customs.  When I went over that Tuesday they made a copy of both my passport and the visa.  They also had me fill out an application.  And then they told me to return the following day with my Letter of Introduction.

I had returned to the International Office the following day to be told quite rudely that the banks would pick up the letters directly and that I'd get an email when the account was open.  Fine, whatever.  A week later I still had not heard from the bank so I decided it would behoove of me to get a little pushy and returned to the International Office and asked about it.  Sure enough the bank had come and the letters had been given. Wonderful!  So I walked to the bank and asked about getting my account opened up!  The lady quite nicely told me that, due to the sheer press of students, they haven't gotten to them all yet (a week later) and that they might be finished on Friday.  Well... it didn't matter all that much since I didn't even have my money yet!

The original email I got said the financial aid disbursement checks would go out on the 20th only to find out that they weren't going to be disbursed until Oct. 3.  Um... that's a difference of two weeks and when you've got no money, that's a bit harsh.  But I had Mark so we were doing okay... for now.  But that brings me to my next suggestion:

3.  Make sure the bank looks at your application and tell you everything they're missing and need from you!

See, I wasn't quite pushy enough.  After I had said a merry, ok thank you and left the bank that monday (it was the 3rd) I went to the university to track down the guy who was supposed to give me my money!  grr....   He asked if I had my bank details and I said- uh, not yet so then he said that I'd be getting a check in pounds sterling and that he was putting out the info that day and the check would arrive either Tuesday (which it did) or Wednesday (when I was able to physically pick it up).

So It's now Wednesday and I had a beautiful check made out to me and I really wanted to deposit it into my bank account as I really needed that money already.  So I return to the bank, sure that I'd be able to open my account.  And no, I was not! See, they needed a letter of introduction and proof of residence.  Great.  I was told by the bank that they hadn't gotten a letter of introduction for everyone and I was one of the unlucky few.  Happily, I had gotten one from the guy in the International Office the previous Monday so I was able to give that to them right then and there.  Which bring up item #4:

4.  Make sure you have proof of residency from the Landlord or the International Office or via a Status Letter from the University

But now I needed to get proof of residency.  My problem is that, without any money, I can't afford to get onto the lease, without being on the lease, I can't get my bank account and thus no money... it's a vicious circle.  So I return to the International Office, ask them where I am to get it and, shock and surprise I can get it from them!  Only... I can't because you see... I'm not living on campus and they only have it from students living on campus.  So I had to go to the 2nd floor (what we in the real world would understand to be the third floor as the ground floor is  the first floor) of the Hull Student Union and get one from there.  And finally I got my Status Letter.

Which required yet another trip back to the bank.  Fortunately this was all that they needed and they accepted it.  Of course, it was still going to take them time to register it but they said they'd do it later that afternoon.  I was also finally able to put that beautiful check into the bank... but they have a 3-5 working day clearance so for me that's next Tuesday.  However, I should be able to access my money and get my ATM card whenever I head over there on Tuesday morning so yay!  I just need to bring my passport with me is all.  I can do that.

So, if you are going to open a checking account in the UK as an International student here's what you need on hand, with you before you go.

1.  Get a Letter of Introduction from the International Office
2.  Make sure you have your passport when opening up and dealing with the bank at all times
3.  Make sure the Bank looks at your application and lets you know what items you're missing
4.  Make sure you have a lease contract, statement from the landlord, a letter of residency from the International Office or a Status Letter from the University.

Only then, my intrepid friend, should you even think about opening an account!

First Day of Class

So today was the first day of lectures.  I have only one class on Mondays and my second class is on Fridays.  Let me back up.  I am getting an MA in Historical Studies at Hull and MA candidates in History have to take two core classes, the first being Historiography and the second being Research Design and Strategy.  For some reason the profs want the students to understand what it means to study and write history, to have a good appreciate what a historian is and does.  All the MA students have to take these two courses so I'll be in the same classes with the same people for the next 12 weeks.

The first class started at 4:14 this afternoon but I left earlier as I wanted to get some errands run before class started.  My first stop was the International Office.  Last week I opened up a bank account and I was told that I needed to get a letter of introduction from the IO the following day.  When I had returned the following day I was informed that they were going to send them directly to the bank and I didn't need to do anything as the bank would just send me an email with my bank information.  Well, this was over a week ago and I wanted answers.  It turns out that the bank had come over and collected the letters so I walked back to the bank and was told that with the sheer number of students who had opened accounts with them, it was going to take a while for them to finish processing... she suggested I return on Friday.  Friday... bother.

So I left the bank and tracked down the guy who was processing the financial aid refund checks.  I was told that they would go out today.  Oh, foolish me.  Though he was polite I got the impression that he was less than thrilled that I had come asking about the checks.  He asked me if I had my banking details and I said I didn't have it yet so he said that I'd be getting a check.  Yeah, I know... and please do it before the USD goes down even more!!  :(  He said he was processing it today and a check would be cut and it'd be in the financial office either tomorrow or Wednesday.  Great.

It was about 3 at this point and I decided now would be a great time to figure out where my classes are being held.  I had assumed they were in the Larkin Building-where the history office are.  But I could not find WI-L9 on the map of West Larkin so I asked.  Silly me, that W wasn't for West nor was the I a lower case L in fact it stand for Wilberforce Hall.  And the nice lady at the History Inquiries office told me what WS stands for Whisk of course!  At least I know where my classes are and as the nice lady said, at least it was a question she could answer... which wasn't the case with the people in line ahead of me.

I got to the classroom an hour early and just got online and chilled until class started.  I met an older, middle aged man named Bruce and we chatted for a bit.  The first part of class will be lecture followed by a 15 minute coffee break and then return to class for discussion.  Personally I'd rather have no break and just end early but that's just me.  During discussion today the prof was insisting that people start thinking about their dissertation and wanted to know if anyone had an idea already.  Seems I am the only one who does.  And now the entire class knows I'm from California, as if the accent didn't give it away.  But it seems as if I am not only the only American in the class but I am the only International student.  Most of the kids there had just gotten their BA and all went to Hull for their undergrad and already know each other.  I think Bruce is the only person in the class who is older than me.  The nice old man thought I was 25.  Bless.  He was quite surprised to discover that I am 32.  He'd not have thought I was that old and I told him it's the Irish in me.

Class got out a little after 6 and Bruce and I walked out.  He went his way and I met Mark who was waiting for me.  I could see him looking out for me and not seeing me.  And then he did and he pointed to his watch and informed me that it was 6:10 and class ended at 6:05.  And because he is such a dear he had brought my peacoat just in case it decided to rain on the way home.  His hip is bothering him so he's fairly sure that we're in for a drenching.  Sounds like fun.  We got home and I made him take 2 Aleve while I heated up left-over lasagna.

Tomorrow I have a Dr. appointment at the local clinic at 11.  I am sure they're going to want to run all sorts of tests to make sure I am in tip top shape.  I suppose we shall see what shall happen but that is, like most things, meant for another post.

Happy Birthday Mark!!

Today is Mark's Birthday and he has had an amazing birthday weekend I am happy to say.


Saturday Uncle Phil and Aunt Anne dropped by with a present for Mark and then we hopped into the car and drove into town.  Aunt Anne thought I would enjoy the Princess Quay (pronounced key in the UK) which is a mall with four floors that has elevators the likes of which they have on a cruise ship.  I had told Uncle Phil to just keep an eye out because I have parking Mojo.  For those who don't know, if I am in the car, great parking places have a tendency to just appear.  But as we went up one level then another with another without any obvious parking places I was fearing that my parking mojo did not work in England.  This was quite disheartening.  Eventually though Aunt Anne told Uncle Phil to go straight instead of turning to go up another level as she saw a parking spot that was cleverly hidden between a support post and a car.


We walked around the mall for a bit and Aunt Anne made sure to point out shops I might like.  We discussed her son's wedding while the men walked a careful distance behind us.  Eventually Aunt Anne brought me to a store called Primark that is bit like Mervyn's.  They had loads of PJs made out of flannel and fuzzy and cotton and all sorts.  And there were plenty of scarves (I was quite excited) and gloves (oh boy!) and all sorts of clothes!!  Mark was feeling a disturbance in the force.  We eventually lost the boys and then had to find them and once we collected the Guntons we went for a walk about downtown.  They showed me the old docks and the docks for the ferries that used to run across the Humber River, which is about the width of the Mississippi.  It's a river that comes off from the ocean so it has tides and when the tide is out it turns into a mud flat.  Quite cool really.


We then continued around, stopped and had a bit to drink.  Mark was able to get me a Diet Coke and once we wet our whistle we continued walking around Old Town.  It's really cool to see these buildings that were built in the 1330s that are still in use today.  We simply don't have history like that.  The house Mark and I are living in is a piece of crap working house built in the Victorian era.  And it still has most of the modern conveniences of the era too.


Uncle Phil then followed his nose and found a chain pub.  We shall not be going back as I've had better fish & chips in CA and they had no Diet Coke... I was forced to drink Diet Pepsi.  Poor Mark felt as if he were letting me down.  He's so sweet.  :)  The four of us had a lovely conversation where I tasted Pimms, what Mark referred to as a salad in a glass.  I also had a taste of a Bitter (beer) called John Smith that my sister would really like.  At one point we passed by a Beer Festival which really intrigued Mark and Uncle Phil... but they resisted.


After several hours of wondering around we returned to the mall where we got some ice cream.  Uncle Phil enjoyed poking gentle fun at me, the way the Brits do, and when we entered Baskin Robbin's he wanted to know why I choose that when we have them in CA.  I objected as Aunt Anne picked it out and gave him a dirty look which only made him laugh.  Then we met a coworker of Uncle Phil whose daughter is a freshman at Hull.  This was the first time in a week she's seen her parents.  :)  And finally we headed back to the car.


There was a father with his two little boys in the garage elevator with us and the older boy had a picker upper thingy that was a dolphin.  He was really cute and when we exited the elevator we realized that we had the perfect parking spot so it appears as if my parking mojo does work in England.  I was so glad.


And then Uncle Phil took us across the Humber Bridge.  It was, until recently, the largest suspension bridge in the world.  It is so long it follows the curvature of the earth!  I learned about it from Top Gear and decided I wanted to go across it.  Uncle Phil & Aunt Anne are Top Gear fans and are on the waiting list to be in the Top Gear audience.  They said it takes up to two years!


Once we have paid the second fee of 3 pounds we pulled over to a park next to the bridge.  We walked about the park area and just enjoyed the afternoon.  It was a beautiful day and there were a million people out and about enjoying the weather I had brought with me from CA.  Uncle Phil went off to find a restroom and I discovered someone selling Diet Coke.  Now, if you know me, you know that when I open my mouth to speak I have no idea which accent will flavor my words.  As it happens when I got to the counter an upper class English accent came out as I asked the nice guy if he had any diet coke.  He said it depended on how cold I wanted it.  He pulled out a bottle and handed it to me.  It was room temperature and I kindly asked about the cans.  He was such a dear he reached all the way into the back and brought forth a can and handed it to me.  I smiled it was perfect and I paid him and enjoyed my spoils.


I talked about it with Mark and he suspects that it because I spoke with an upper class accent that afforded me such dedicated service.  Hey, if it works I'll use it.  :)


Eventually though, we left and returned home.  It was late and Uncle Phil & Aunt Anne had to return home.  We hugged and kissed them goodbye, thanked them for a wonderful day and retired for the evening.


At some point we decided to order some take out.  Our dinner was supposed to arrive a bit after 8 and Mark had to go and collect it sometime after 9.  We will not be returning.  All in all it was a good day and we eventually went to bed.


Sunday Mark and I woke up and breakfast required a quick trip to the Tesco's Express that's across the street.  An express is a bit like the grocery department at Target without the Target.  We returned home, and I proceeded to make Mark his Birthday Breakfast.  He ate every bite.  I love feeding him.  :)  While we were finishing up his friend Simon came over and then we went off to go to a different grocery store and buy food for his Birthday Dinner.  Although I managed to find everything I required-mostly- I found that I had the largest desire for Home than I have ever felt.  I was desperately wishing for Raley's or even Target!!    Something I recognize as being a civilized shopping center!!!  Eventually though we got out of there alive and I was able to start on making the sauce for his lasagna dinner.  I had even gotten a box of toffee cake for his Afters (dessert).  I have yet to bake it but I think I shall work on that in a few minutes.  If there is one thing my boy loves outside of his family and me, it's coffee and toffee.  A smart girl knows what makes her boy happy and I plan on keeping mine delirious, even if I have to dope him with coffee and toffee cake.  


And because I love him, I even gave him veto power in the avon order I plan on making here in a few days.  Our neighbor is an Avon Lady... so nice.  :)


But our day is rapidly coming to a close and I have things I still need to do so I think I shall bid ye all a good evening.