History, Revisited

I was a European history major in college and I have always loved history. Not necessarily the battles and who won what war, but the stories of how people lived; how the ramifications of war, a new King/Queen, or a plague affected the population. How people coped, what they did to earn their keep, how they survived. In a nutshell, I am a cultural history nerd. 

Bolton's Abbey

I once took an entire university course devoted to Henry VIII and his dissolution of the Catholic church in England. But it wasn't until I moved here and started visiting the local abbeys that were torn down shortly after England's separation from Rome, did I understand the magnitude of Henry VIII's decision. Yes, it was so he could legally wed & bed Anne Boleyn, but it was also an attempt to secure a healthy male heir. That need of a healthy male heir, and the lengths that the King would go in the hopes of getting one, changed the lives of so many and altered the course of history forever. 

Rievaulx Abbey

The abbeys were large and provided food and a place of healing (albeit leeches, herbs, and the like) for the local population, and education for the males with talent or money. The Abbeys weren't all peaches and cream, though. Some abbeys, Fountains Abbey in particular, were said to be quite corrupt by the time of their undoing. I find this stuff so completely fascinating.

Fountain's Abbey

That first year of living in England really re-ignited my love for history. I mean, how could it not? There is so much history in this country, even written history going back 2000+ years. So cool!

And so I began teaching myself about a young Celtic queen who reigned during the time of the Roman arrival on the isle of Britannia (circa 40AD). I am currently attempting to write a novel about her life and times. It hasn't been easy, as there is a lot of conjecture and theories about the pre-Roman Celts, but not a lot about them is truly known. Quite a bit was written about them from their Roman contemporaries, but having only one side of a story can be more challenging than helpful. So basically, I'm attempting to research and write a very complex story as my first try at writing anything of any length. Wish me luck :-) 

I have no idea if I'll ever have a single person read the tale I am writing, but for now, it's keeping me busy. 

Cricket is Fun to watch, but Incomprehensible

I went to my first cricket match yesterday; Yorkshire vs Devonshire. The home team (Yorkshire) won, we had some good food, a few beers, and a right jolly good time!

Yorkshire vs Devonshire

Here are a few of the things I learned at the cricket match:

• The wickets are the two "bases" and if the batter knocks the little balanced thingy off the wickets, he's out. (Technical terms are already long forgotten, so just roll with me…)
• If the other team throws the ball and knocks the thingy of the wickets, the batter is out.
• The batters work in pairs, running back and forth between the wickets with their bats, gaining points, also called wickets.
• There are no foul balls.
• If you hit a ball into the stands, you get 6 points, if you hit the wall of the stands, you get four points. There are a lot of other ways to get points, and they all seem arbitrary.   
• Each batter gets 6 pitches, and they're called bowls, not pitches.
• There isn't a heck of a lot of hustle from anyone on the field but the pitcher and the runners. Really. The rest of the guys just stand around. The. Whole. Game.
• The pitcher cannot bend his elbow when he bowls the ball to the pitcher. Bowling looks really, really odd and uncomfortable. 
• We saw a T20 game, in which each team only has one "inning." Real cricket matches last for up to five days and the players break for lunch and afternoon tea. Seriously. 
• The game ended after 2-1/2 hours with a score of 134 to 130.
• Like musical chairs, spectators are allowed to move to/from the seating area only when the music blasts from the stadium speakers (think Everybody Dance Now, and Gangnam Style) so as not to disrupt the viewers/gameplay. 
• There is such a thing as a "Beer Snake," and although verboten, we saw one with our own eyes last night. (Made from empty plastic pint cups) Because games can last all day, for up to five days, many, many empty pint cups are collected. Our game only lasted 2-1/2 hours, yet the beer snake was saw was probably around eight feet tall… not nearly as impressive as the one below (or others you can see online that stretch all the way around the stadium). Yeah, beer snakes are a thing. 

  

  Beer Snake - NOT MY PHOTO (Via Wikipedia)

The Day my Mom Died

We were all home when my Mom took her last breath, as she lay in a hospice bed in the living room where we usually opened our Christmas presents. We had spent the last three days hovering around her, talking, watching, waiting. My dad, brother, sister, and I didn't know what else to do but bide our time. Mom was no longer coherent as far as we knew, but we kept talking to her, telling her we would all be okay. It's the lie you tell a dying person to try and make everyone feel better. 

And then, on Easter Sunday at 6:17pm, she drew her last, gasping breath. We all stood around her and cried. Sister turned off her oxygen tube and dad called the Hospice hotline. And then we waited some more, not wanting to leave her side. 

It was an hour before the nurse arrived to complete mom's death certificate, at which time we could finally call the funeral home. Another two hours went by before the funeral home arrived to take her for cremation. We stood around for hours, numb and in shock.

She had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer less than five months earlier. And even though there were only a few rays of hope within those last five months, we were all still praying for a miracle. 

I was there to say goodbye, and I thought I was prepared. And I was, as much as you can be in that situation. What I was not prepared for was the waiting after her final breath, until she finally left our lives inside a nondescript white van. We watched as she was slowly loaded into the van, and we stayed outside, standing on our front lawn as we watched the van back out of our driveway and drive slowly away from our house and our lives, waving goodbye.

She was an awesome lady, mom, and friend. It's been a little more than a year since she passed and I still cannot believe that she's gone. I hear her voice in my head as clear as day, and she appears in my dreams from time to time. 

I hope there is an afterlife, because I'd really, really like to give her anther hug.

American English vs British English, Part One

A field of rapeseed. Erm…. What?!?

I am sure American vs British English will be an ongoing topic, but we'll start with this item. 

Every day I walk into stores and am immediately welcomed with a smile and then, the dreaded, "Hi ya, you all right?" Sometimes they add one more word to make it "You all right, there?" 

Gosh. I don't know, should I not be all right? Am I bleeding or something? Should I be standing here, or should I be standing over there? If I'm in someone's way, the proper British thing to say would be "Sorry," (not excuse me — as that would indicate I have a question, or pardon me — as that would indicate I had just burped or farted) but I really don't quite know what to say.

I learned shortly after moving to England that "You all right, there?" is equivalent to "How are you?" in America. However, while it's easy for me to reply to the American version with "I'm fine, how are you," for two years I have awkwardly handled the British version of the question. Replying "I'm all right. Are you all right?" makes me feel like I should feel their forehead to see if they're clammy or feverish and in need of a doctor. 

I have asked some of my new British friends and they just say I should reply to the query with "Yeah, you?" But even that feels awkward for some reason. 

Oh, the stress I put on myself for no reason whatsoever!! 

A History Nerd in Britain

Getting my De-coder on in Bletchley Park

I am an ex-pat living in Britain. I have a university degree in European history and have worked as a retail manager, at a textbook publishing company, and most recently, as a massage therapist. I now find myself in jolly old England for a few years, learning more about their history than I ever did in a classroom. 

I plan to use this blog as a chance to tell some of my tales of life in Great Britain and to work on my creative writing skills. Enjoy!