By the time this blog is posted, John and I will be in ‘Merry Old England’ unless, of course, my recurring nightmare involving parachutes and inky ocean waters comes true. It’s our first trip across the ‘pond’ (as they say,) so we’ve been watching Public Television to learn the language and customs.
Thanks to Hyacinth Bucket, (that’s Bou-quet’,) I know that English women are obsessed with ‘keeping up appearances.’ I’ve learned from Basil Fawlty to avoid the food in British hotels and to keep my door locked. And thanks to Dibley’s Vicar, Geraldine Granger, I’ll be attending church in England’s countryside.
As for the English language, I’ve been easing some new words into my vocabulary. If there’s an unpleasant odor, I might say, “It smells like a soiled ‘nappy.’” When we were out the other day, I reminded John that he was tailgating the ‘lorry.’ He reminded me who was driving the car, so I said he was being ‘stroppy.’ I’ve been trying to work ‘brilliant’ into my conversation; the English love that one. And I’d like to give ‘bugger’ a try, but I need to do a little more research first.
Expressions are trickier. If a hotel clerk offers to come to my room in the morning to ‘knock me up,’ for instance, I won’t be offended (or flattered.) And wild horses couldn’t make me advise someone to ‘keep their pecker up,’ no matter how depressed or miserable they are.
I can’t wait to get there, despite ominous advice from friends: “Don’t take your curling iron — It’ll fry your hair clear down to the roots. Pack an umbrella, and a raincoat, and water-proof shoes. Order fish and chips — it’s the only decent food over there!” One friend advised me to carry toilet paper in my purse at all times. I told her there wasn’t room for one more thing.