OK, I did it again . . . I intended on blogging all throughout the Easter/Spring break, and I didn't! We're already into May, and I'm back in England after a very satisfying month in Colorado.
Since I've been back to England, I think it has rained, to some extent, every day. Last week, when I returned, I had to overcome the expected jet lag. Gray skies, rain, and slick and semi-flooded streets do not encourage a break out from the doldrums of trip exhaustion.
I felt quite impressed with myself that I managed to get motivated enough to order groceries for delivery to the house! Yes, that is one aspect of living in England that I like. It means that I don't have to get in my car, battle the elements and the traffic, use up gas/petrol, fight for a parking spot at the store, and continue that fight to get through the aisles inside the stores. The supermarkets in SE England are always packed and busy.
There is nothing leisurely and enjoyable about shopping 'live-and-in-person" for groceries here. I am one of those folks who like to take my time, eyeing new things on the shelf and reading labels. I am not popular in an English grocery store. I have been known to be run over by crazed mums pushing carts laden with food and their toddlers. This is not supposed to be bumper cars -- or dodge 'ems as they say here.
Most times, no one says anything, like 'excuse me' or 'I'm sorry.' They just push you out of the way, as if this is how all human kind acts. No, it is not!
Sometimes, I feel like a Martian here . . . oh yeah . . . that's right . . . I am!
But back to the grocery delivery . . . it is a divine aspect of living here, as my friend Alisha pointed out the other day. How sublime to sit in jammies at night and casually peruse the grocery aisles without a pushy trolley mum in sight.
That said, I do thoroughly enjoy my trips to the butchers and fruit and veg stands in some of our villages. We have a fantastic butcher shop in the nearby town of Bookham, and it is well known for great produce and wonderful gab. They are always exceedingly friendly, and I will miss them when I eventually leave here.
It's still raining this week, but I have ventured out several times now, and I seem to be heading back into some routine. Living in Colorado and England almost simultaneously is making my head spin a bit, and I try to remember who and where I am!
Point in question: Dear hubby comes home from work after an insanely busy day. Him: "Hello," in a very loving and friendly way. Me: "Do you know what happened to the olives in the fridge?" Him: "I don't remember any olives." Me: "They were there. They were special olives stuffed with pickled garlic." Him: "That's not ringing any bells." Me: "I know they were there, and now they are gone, and I need them to make our salad."
It finally dawned on me this morning that those special olives are in the refrigerator in COLORADO, not England. Where am I? Who am I? Where's my blog?