Dance #1: Once an Expat...

"Reverse culture-shock", they call it.

Apparently it's nothing compared to the BBC's recent coverage of the Queen's Jubilee, where couch-potato flag-wavers were treated to amazingly bad taste wonders such as Her Majesty's frowning visage printed on a sick bag and cakes in the shape of corgis.

'Enough!' we cried, spluttering out the last crumbs of our custard creams, turning off the TV and logging onto Twitter and Facebook, venting our spleens en masse on all the various issues that came up, not least the tomfoolery of the presenters and the celebs of the BBC.

Next up, of course, is the Olympics.  The torch is being carried throughout the streets of the UK, and is currently somewhere in Ireland.  It's probably being held hostage, with a ransom given to the Mother Torch, which is in the van along with a bunch of coppers who will go onto paid leave for therapy once all this is over, which isn't all that surprising since the torch was also given to will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas to run with through London.  This celeb isn't British, but he is on the Beeb's The Voice, so that must make him an Englishman's second cousin three times removed, or something.  He's "pursuing his dreams" and that's something I envy, the absolute preciseness of that particular dream.  An American running strolling through Wembley Stadium Taunton, lighting deciding to Tweet on his phone, before passing it onto the next person.  My dreams usually consist of aliens being voiced by Stephen Fry whilst the wolves douse my bed with gasoline again.

I'm really, really, looking forward to the opening ceremony of the Olympics, I really am.  Mostly because I didn't watch any of the above as I'm only guided by hearsay, gossip and Facebook.  Instead, I can safely attest that I was moving house and I did not buy a flag, even when egged on by my preggers Canadian wife who, as part of the Commonwealth, has at least 31 more points as to why she should run waddle through London Taunton with the Olympic torch, not some Yank from L.A.

Anyway... enough with the complaining.  Ooo, yes, complaining about complaining...

After staying in England since mid-Feb, it feels like the culture has shifted over the last couple of years.  Or, it comes from a change in perspective after living in Slovakia for nearly three years.  Or, it may come from now being able to understand everybody and everything, even including the slang.  Oh, the slang!  How we love the slang, the (sometimes) poetry that spews forth, and three times out of ten the English language is used correctly!  For example, coming home on the train I was standing next to a lady who was telling her friend, with all earnestness in her face, how her friend's shoes were the "modicum of fashion!".  'Modicum' is a good word and it will get you 14 points in Scrabble, but you shouldn't say that about your friend's shoes, although the informed didn't seem to mind.

So, back on the list of things that I hear is how someone is "not happy", whether through complaining, gossiping, or just general melancholy.  Community isn't widespread, it's much more insular, and you might not even talk to your next door neighbour for a couple of months before they introduce themselves or, even, yourself.  It seems as if the UK has become one giant call-centre, where everyone is unhappy and no-one is satisfied with the current state of affairs.  At least our neighbour in our village gave us cake every now and again, making us feel better.  Brits were also labelled as "arrogant" by just about everybody that I met there, with myself as the exception to the general tarring brush.  Probably because I was driving them somewhere or I was just about to give them money, one of the two.  Unfortunately, I have seen enough evidence from my fellow citizens to make me shudder and make my toes grip my shoes all the more keenly.

I had one (sort of) goodbye party/stag party in the UK, more to celebrate my impending doom marriage to my lovely bride.  On leaving Slovakia, it was like the leaving speeches and parties didn't end for a month.  This is, I'm proud to say, because of Christina, and of how much she's put herself into the country in Slovakia, how much she has sacrificed over the years, and most significantly how much time she has spent on relationships that she considered special and important to her.  She's awesome, but that's just another reason why I married her.

And so, we're starting our next phase of our life together in the UK, but we're sure that there are going to be many challenges along the way.  One of the big ones, of course, is Baby C the Sequel, but at the moment that's several months away.  One of the really big ones then, is a cause to go against while going with the grain in our local community.  Little things, like saying "yes" to giving someone a lift at 3am to their flight in London, or preparing cakes for someone who's just given birth, whatever.  British people are horrendous for not going the extra mile and instead doing just enough to get by.  We may even be termed 'eccentric' by doing this, but we haven't got enough money for that.  'Counter-cultural' will do for now, and time will tell to see if we can follow up words with actions.