Thanksgiving

This year thanksgiving was quite exciting.  A work colleague whose mother happens to be American invited us to diner after work.  It also turns out that the mother worked on a seminal edition of Shakespeare’s plays in the 1980s.  So it was fascinating on many counts.  The most interesting feature of the diner was that the boiler in their house hadn’t been working for several days so there was no heat and no hot water in the house.  It so happens that the boiler at our flat also let go that morning and we also had no heat or hot water.  And our third colleague in the computer room also had his boiler not working, making it a clean sweep.  And we found out that my inlaws in back in the states lost their water on Thanksgiving Day also.  So there was a theme.  But the best thing about Thanksgiving this year is that we had somewhere to go to, so that was a nice change from last year.  I think it shows how we have adapted to life in London that we found someone with whom to share the American holiday.

My Third London Job

Well, it took me a few months but I finally got a job in occupational therapy.  I took the job near the beginning of the year and I am still there as of the writing of this entry.  I am working at the Royal Hospital for Neurodisability and it is in Putney.  Putney is just southeast of the center of London’s urban sprawl.  It is in a borough called Wandsworth.  My first encounter with Wandsworth is from the line from the film: Love Actually.  (Yes, they still say ‘film’ here.  It has a certain charm, like their pull-chain toilets… those born after 1970 may not have had that pleasure… but have no fear, just visit London!)  

Those of you who know me through my wife know already know that she is a huge fan of Hugh Grant’s hair.  Who isn’t?  I mean, it is really nice hair!  Well… OK, maybe she has never actually said that she is a fan of his hair.  Maybe there is some other quality that she sees in him.  However, after having seen many of his films (I am pretty sure I would have escaped this pleasure had I not met her) I am thinking his hair is really his nicest feature.  I don’t mean to demean any of his other qualities.  His hair is that good.  If Jesus had Hugh Grant hair, I don’t think anything about the miracles and parables would have made it into the Bible...  But nothing tops the ‘Four Weddings and A Funeral’ Hair, and what was he thinking in ‘About A Boy’???  

My first encounter with Putney was when I stepped off of the train on my way to the job interview.  I walked a dozen meters or so down the main road and turned down the side street and my jaw dropped.  There were front gardens (what we Americans call front yards)… and they were green, you know grass, shrubs, small trees, a few flowers along the walk and against the house… and not just one:  Every house had a green front garden!   I was overcome with euphoria from the momentary break in tarmac (asphalt), brick, and concrete.  It was like when colour coming into Pleasantville.  (Wow, I am starting to scare myself with all of these film references.)  Those of you who have visited may have noticed the conspicuous lack of grass in the old neighbourhood.  The new one, although much improved, still lacks green front gardens.  

Holloa!

Well, in the US, it is the day after: the light at the end of the tunnel. In just a few months and W will be a bad memory. Someone at work whom I cannot recall ever having spoken to before said to me as he passed me in the corridor, “It looks like your country is having a Tony Blair moment.” Most of you know that Tony Blair was the prime minister before Gordan Brown, the current one. I have to say that I think of Clinton when I think of Blair, but I was too surprised that he knew I was an American to even ask what he meant by that. Anyway, you would think that ‘the election’ (as it is referred to) was here. Just minutes ago, I was paying for an avocado at a local shop and someone said to the shopkeeper as he came in “What do you think about the election?” He gave a friendly non-committal answer and then turned to me and quietly said, “It is one thing to win an election; it is another, to run a country.” Now I know I have never seen this man before. I have never set foot in this shop. So there you go.
Here, today is Guy Fawkes Day. We don’t get it off. Guy Fawkes Day (also called Bonfire Night) is celebrated with fireworks, sort of like our Fourth of July, except it has nothing to do with independence or national origins. This guy was caught trying to blow up Parliament (which most of you know is somewhat analogous to the US Congress) while the king was addressing it (which would be analogous to a joint session, like during the State of the Union).  Anyway, there is a verse that all Brits seem to know:

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I can think of no reason
Why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent
To blow up the King and Parli'ment.
Three-score barrels of powder below
To prove old England's overthrow;
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

And fireworks going off around me as I write...  Holloa!

Our New Flat: The Movie

Following the popularity of our web entry, we have released a film based on the web entry.  Thus we enter the web-movie making generation with a video of our new flat:

Please note that the those of with dial-up connections (New Bedford parents) will not be able to view this video.