Thursday, August 04, 2005
Cultural confusion
Time: 1.35am UK time (which is a bit like UK time, and nothing like Dallas time)
Place: Snaresbrook, a small part of London unaffected by bombings.
Influences: A bottle of white wine smuggled out of The Eagle (white, obviously) and my housemate's vegetarian spring rolls. Don't tell her.
Reasons: I'm fed up with people bollocking me for not updating this.
Home is always home.
I did 7 weeks in the states, and the states is a big place. Bloody big. As a result, all of the UK seems like home, which is lucky because within 48 hours of returning to London, I was off to Scotland for a week of conferences and meetings in Edinburgh and Glasgow.
This coincided with the riots, the G8 conference, and more concerningly, the first of the two London bombings. Thursday the 7th of July. 8.55sm they went off, but the news didn't get to me until about 10am when my mate Ian texted me. Apart from a scary hour when I was trying to check that my housemate was ok (a midwife, working in the affected area), my main reaction was "How dare the fuckers bomb my city". I wanted to get back there. To prove I wasn't affected. To prove I couldn't be controlled.
When I did get back it was only for a few days before I ended up working in Leeds for a fortnight during which time the failed 21/7 bombers tried to blow up London. Much as they failed (and this time I was tipped off by BBC Oxford), I wanted to get back there. When I did, I purposely travelled into Oxford Circus with a sense of jubilation and defiance.
Sure, they may not agree with our government's outlook on the world, and they may have some genuine arguments... but for fuck's sake... to set bombs off is not the way to do it. Especially in London. This is in no way a challenge, but Londoners will still move around the city.
It's interesting. I'm a Northerner. Brought up in Chester, with the North as my back garden. My career took me to Sunderland, Cardiff and Leeds. Excluding the Welsh influence, it's all Northern. I've lived in London for a year and am in no way as affiliated with our capital as others who have been here longer. In fact, I never felt as close to the place as when it was threatened by the bombers. And as much as it isn't as simple as "they're bad, we're good"... I still won't let anyone rule my life by terror.
Blimey, that went on a bit. Moving on.
So I got back. Then a week in Scotland. Then a fortnight in Leeds and a week in Barcelona (holiday, hurrah!)... and now in London for a couple of weeks. I promised some form of look back on my time in the US, and that's the reason for this post. Please ignore everything before this section.
Well, how odd it was coming back. Firstly, getting home was shite.
Moving from Gatwick (South West London via Victoria) to my house (North East London via a pavement) was awful. Horrible. Really painful. How glad I was that I abandoned one suitcase in the states. And not helped by losing 6 hours while on the plane. Anyway, I got back to the flat and apart from a welcome home notice on my bedrom wall, it was like 'd never been away.
Don't you find that when you return to a place after a while you expect it all to be different? Even when it isn't? And you almost go looking for the differences? Anyway, the only difference was my confused body clock... which meant that at 4am on Saturday morning I was parked outside Whipps Cross Hospital, enjoying a sausage sandwich from the 24 hours cafe.
And then... you're back... but you've been away for 2 months and no-one knows you're back so no-one phones you. And everyone you call for a beer says "Oh, I didn't know you were back"... which is kinda nice but also awkward.
As for the whole US/UK differences... well I've been back so long, I've frgotten them, so here's the deal. I'm back in just under a fortnight, so when I get back to the US, I'll write them from there. How's that?
And all of you shouting "Timewaster" can shut up now. Al? ;-)
But it's been great fun, and I think there's more fun to come..........
Cx
Place: Snaresbrook, a small part of London unaffected by bombings.
Influences: A bottle of white wine smuggled out of The Eagle (white, obviously) and my housemate's vegetarian spring rolls. Don't tell her.
Reasons: I'm fed up with people bollocking me for not updating this.
Home is always home.
I did 7 weeks in the states, and the states is a big place. Bloody big. As a result, all of the UK seems like home, which is lucky because within 48 hours of returning to London, I was off to Scotland for a week of conferences and meetings in Edinburgh and Glasgow.
This coincided with the riots, the G8 conference, and more concerningly, the first of the two London bombings. Thursday the 7th of July. 8.55sm they went off, but the news didn't get to me until about 10am when my mate Ian texted me. Apart from a scary hour when I was trying to check that my housemate was ok (a midwife, working in the affected area), my main reaction was "How dare the fuckers bomb my city". I wanted to get back there. To prove I wasn't affected. To prove I couldn't be controlled.
When I did get back it was only for a few days before I ended up working in Leeds for a fortnight during which time the failed 21/7 bombers tried to blow up London. Much as they failed (and this time I was tipped off by BBC Oxford), I wanted to get back there. When I did, I purposely travelled into Oxford Circus with a sense of jubilation and defiance.
Sure, they may not agree with our government's outlook on the world, and they may have some genuine arguments... but for fuck's sake... to set bombs off is not the way to do it. Especially in London. This is in no way a challenge, but Londoners will still move around the city.
It's interesting. I'm a Northerner. Brought up in Chester, with the North as my back garden. My career took me to Sunderland, Cardiff and Leeds. Excluding the Welsh influence, it's all Northern. I've lived in London for a year and am in no way as affiliated with our capital as others who have been here longer. In fact, I never felt as close to the place as when it was threatened by the bombers. And as much as it isn't as simple as "they're bad, we're good"... I still won't let anyone rule my life by terror.
Blimey, that went on a bit. Moving on.
So I got back. Then a week in Scotland. Then a fortnight in Leeds and a week in Barcelona (holiday, hurrah!)... and now in London for a couple of weeks. I promised some form of look back on my time in the US, and that's the reason for this post. Please ignore everything before this section.
Well, how odd it was coming back. Firstly, getting home was shite.
Moving from Gatwick (South West London via Victoria) to my house (North East London via a pavement) was awful. Horrible. Really painful. How glad I was that I abandoned one suitcase in the states. And not helped by losing 6 hours while on the plane. Anyway, I got back to the flat and apart from a welcome home notice on my bedrom wall, it was like 'd never been away.
Don't you find that when you return to a place after a while you expect it all to be different? Even when it isn't? And you almost go looking for the differences? Anyway, the only difference was my confused body clock... which meant that at 4am on Saturday morning I was parked outside Whipps Cross Hospital, enjoying a sausage sandwich from the 24 hours cafe.
And then... you're back... but you've been away for 2 months and no-one knows you're back so no-one phones you. And everyone you call for a beer says "Oh, I didn't know you were back"... which is kinda nice but also awkward.
As for the whole US/UK differences... well I've been back so long, I've frgotten them, so here's the deal. I'm back in just under a fortnight, so when I get back to the US, I'll write them from there. How's that?
And all of you shouting "Timewaster" can shut up now. Al? ;-)
But it's been great fun, and I think there's more fun to come..........
Cx
