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Tuesday 23rd September 2003: Autumnal Equinox
Since I already write about drinking beer and coffee on my own website (coffeebeer.co.uk), this blog will be devoted to everything else I do as an expate in England: mainly not too much. But I do intend to mention Marmite in every entry.
The Equinox has arrived in Yorkshire. Smashed and splattered, to put it more succinctly. After record breaking high temperatures I actually had to turn the heat on this evening. Fortunately with these radiators there is no musty smell with the first heating of the year like there always was with forced-air systems. And the radiators are so calm and quiet and peaceful -- and great places to drape wet laundry. I really like radiators. And I like electric showers, too -- always plenty of hot water. Unfortunately our electric shower is starting to malfunction, causing cold water to spurt out as the pipes whistle loudly and the OVERHEAT indicator lights up. It's almost like having a nonelectric shower, only with a rather scary electrical OVERHEAT indicator.
But I do love the new, fresh, cold air. After having spent six months in SoCal, where the weather varies from brownish heat to brownish tepidness, it's a relief to be back in a place with seasons. Yes, the purple heather on the hills in the Peak District in the summertime, and the tulips and daffodils in the gardens in the spring, and the rich red foliage on the Yorkshire stone buildings in the autumn, and the black ice on South Road in the winter -- and, of course, the Marmite on my Warburton's potato cakes in the morning. (Especially good with a slathering of nut butter.)
And since it's after midnight, and I'm one of those skinny people who awake in the morning so hungry I could eat my duvet, breakfast sounds like an especially good reason to log off for now and go to bed.
Wednesday 24th September 2003: Whistling Kangaroos
It didn't start out as a particularly outstanding morning. But at 9:11am, as I was eating my breakfast (crumpets with Marmite) and reading yesterday's Times, I came across a story about a pet kangaroo who rescued her injured owner by hopping back to the farm house to get help. And as I read I found myself whistling the theme song to "Lassie". This may not sound so unusual in itself. But I've never been able to whistle before! And there it was, emanating from my pursed lips and filling the room: pure, crystal clear, canarylike notes. I began to experiment, first with "Zippity Doo Dah", then "Whistle While You Work", then on through "Jesu Joy of Man's Desire", "Dirty Old Town", "The Blue Danube Waltz", "My Sharona", "The Good, Bad, and the Ugly", and they all worked! At the age of 50 I've turned into a friggin' jukebox!
I figured this was as good as the day would get -- but then the post came, and in it was my visa from the Home Office which finally grants me residency. So stay tuned for my employment search...
