"The good news is we are fifteen minutes early!", shouts the KLM aeroplane captain as we begin our descent into Heathrow. "The bad news is, we cannot land for another forty-five minutes".
"For fuck's sake", says my neighbour. He is an idiot in a cheap suit who has eaten all of his stupid lunch in a box and sucked up two small bottles of wine. His other main hobby has been being sarcastic with the air steward lady who has been - as they always are on KLM - like a perfect robotlady in shoes you could run for a bus in.
He slams shut his stupid management book (which is not as good as the one I will write), and catches my eye. "Fucking typical, isn't it? It all works until you get to fucking Britain".
As swearing is the occupation of Princes and Kings, I find his chit-chat entertaining, but I am too tired to argue, or even say any words to him; these are strange times, and my mind and heart are elsewhere. There is also no point in arguing, because I know he is right.
Going Through Customs
Four desks, six hundred people: an hour and a half to get off a plane and into a cab.
Getting a Cab
Heathrow to Barnes. £35. His is moving to New Zealand. He cannot stand Britain another minute.
Him: What do you think of all the blacks ?
Me: What, the All Blacks? Dunno. I don't much about rugby.
Him: No, all the blacks.
Buying A Residents' Parking Permit
It costs me £60 to park outside my flat (which is mine) for six months, and takes two hours to pay for the bit of paper that says it is OK for me to park outside my flat (which is mine), on a road in a borough in which I pay about £70 a month in council tax. If I do not buy it, my car will be removed and sent to Peckham, which is on the Moon.
There is a new place to go to get the bits of paper though! It is called "Brixton Customer Centre". It is all very New Labour 2001, and the computers don't work. There are three times as many people working there as there are 'customers', except they are not really working. One of them is trying on sunglasses.
On the walls, there are photographs of people smiling outside their council houses or lying in the grass outside the London Eye. They do not look like me or anyone I have ever seen in Lambeth.
Buying Stuff In M&S
I am stuck at the check-out for twenty minutes because an insufferable woman has her "party food" order confused! Twelve "smoked salmon bites" cost exactly the same as six filo prawn parcels and six mini-hamburgers, apparently, but only if you say the prices out loud to the people on the till like they are retarded.
I wish she could afford to live in Battersea.
Getting The Bus
£2? For bus that moves in the same borough, let alone the same city? (That is about $4 in the America or the Canadia, or about 3 Euros, which will get you from Amsterdam to the moon and back.)
People Talking On Their Mobile Telephones Very Loudly
If you live a country where you do not understand the language (e.g. the Netherlands) or have to tune in to understand it (e.g. France or Quebec), life is good. When you are in a country where you hear everything whether you want to or not, it is very bad and makes you want to die.
Money
EVERYTHING is expensive. There is nothing in Britain that is cheaper than it is in another country, apart from when you go to hospital, where you can get free blood poisoning. I have really looked today for something that is cheap but there is nothing at all that is cheaper than Amsterdam or France or Canada, apart from The Guardian, and I'm not sure that even that's worth it anymore.
Mothballs
Ten shops. No mothballs. I am not entirely sure that five out of the ten shops even knew what mothballs were.
Going To The Doctor
I am not even ill, but I need to have some things looked at the doctor, who is mad. But somehow, despite being at the doctor at the right time, I have missed my appointment. This is worrying and depressing, all at once.
Whilst all this goes on, I am spending entire days in my plush Brixton apartment clearing things out. A friend (and her many boxes) is living here, but she cannot empty her boxes until I empty my cupboards and drawers and cellar. But emptying is difficult when negotiating boxes, and the cat - who is unfortunately not yet dead - keeps sitting on the things I am clearing out. I am tired and cross and do not want to be here, even though I know it will all be worth it in the end.
But what is this? An 'instant message' on Skype! It is my (English) friend Simon, who lives in Vancouver. That is in Canadia, which is the place where I am going three weeks to live for three months (and then possibly up to and including the rest of my life).
Me: Do you miss England ever?
Simon: Never. Ever. And you can get Radio 4 on your computer. What else do you need?
I feel unaccountably cheerful now, and will soon be telephoning British Airways to see if can change my flight. I see no reason why I should not leave the country tomorrow.
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21 comments:
I never really understood why our Australian cousins called us whinging Poms. It's all getting a bit clearer now.
In defence of this great country of ours, it has:
Variable weather which always provides conversation material with strangers.
Great buildings with history
Beautiful Countryside
The best media industry in the world, from TV to newspapers to creative advertising
Great football
It's not all bad news, surely you'll miss something when you are in Canadia
Don't confuse London with the rest of the country.....
Too true, I was in Warwickshire over the weekend, totally different world from the madness of London
Craig. I know. I don't care.
Anon. Fair point. I meant to write London in the header. I have changed it.
Of course other bits of Britain are different to, and better than, London. I just don't want to live here anymore. I'm bored of it, and I can't afford a 6-bedroom Georgian rectory in Oxfordshire or Yorkshire (with staff, a studio and an office) so I am going somewhere where there is a lot of space. A lot of space. So much, in fact, that ... yes.
I'll miss my friends and my family, of course. It's not easy. I just get irritated here, so it's better if I take myself and my irritation elsewhere. And anyway I'd rather be in Canada; there's someone I'm in love with there. Which is whole point of everything, as far as I can see.
Well whenever you get over here you should take a quick trip across the (Ontario - Quebec) border and visit:
http://www.thebigbeaver.com/
They have a huge beaver on the roof.
I don't dare type in www.thebigbeaver.com on my work PC. Could spell the end of work as I know it
I did. It's BRILLIANT. Sarah, I am crying hot tears of joy.
There, there. Three weeks. It's a mantra.
Say NO to mothballs. I have a beautiful small travelling cedar chest, about 200 years old, BUT my grandaunt put mothballs in it one day in 1927 and it still reeks.
But the moths ... they eat everything - even my favourite red velvet jacket and my old cashmere scarf, and I HATE them.
The Beaver site is wonderful. I don't know how I've missed it in my travels. However, I feel compelled to point out that the advertising is misleading. They do not submerge female deer in hot oil and call it Beaver Smack.
Try scented soaps in plastic bags with little vents cut in for the smell to fill the container. Then you can pick a scent that won't mind wearing.
that "you" won't mind wearing. I'll get out of your comments box now. I've taken up far too much space already.
Ooh, I'm going on an aeroplane soon!
Sorry, I read that bit and went off into a reverie and skim-read the rest, as clearly living in Manchester I already know London is rubbish and can be all snooty and superior about Longsight, Manchester, where everything is cheaper than chips.
Aeroplanes! Looking at clouds from on top! Cool!
Sorry. I don't travel much.
Oh, and follow your heart, and all that.
And there's a lot to be said for being as whingey as you possibly can and seeking out all the very worst bits about England over the next three weeks - tis a good way of preventing homesickness.
I'm going to Paris, too. But on a train. Ooh! I'm so cosmopolitan.
I like London. But then I live in the very peaceful countryside, so it's quite exciting to visit, and the buses are far cheaper than here.
And I agree with Asta about the mothballs.
But I agree with you about the prices.
Going through customs.
Last time I re-entered the U.S., they kept me for about 45 minutes in a room that was as unwelcoming as possible without actually cuffing people, because my fingerprints didn't match the record.
As a matter of fact, my fingers seem to have criminal intentions and refuse to let their prints as clearly as anybody's else. Except for my mum, for I inherited this peculiarity from her.
So, with the line before they check your passport and visa and fingerprints and such being really much longer for non-residents than for residents, it took me 1h45 minutes more than my Sweetheart (he is American) to go through customs.
So, see, things can be very wrong and broken elsewhere, too.
Even though I doubt it's much of a comforting idea.
2 hours from leaving the plane to taxi at Heathrow last time I visited London (from the Canadia, I might add). Customs was absolutely nuts.
On the other hand, the last time I flew into Montreal, they lost my luggage, so I guess stuff happens.
Apparently, there is an epidemic of moths. (It was on Radio 4, I think.) My local, old-fashioned, hardware shop does loose mothballs - are you looking in the right place? John Lewis also does mothballs but each is wrapped up in its own little bag which makes a boxful too expensive.
I am afraid that I now kill clothes moths whenever I see them; and then have to set aside time to go round cleaning their corpses off the wallpaper. I mind the smell of mothballs much less than having to throw away woollen clothes.
Yes, aren't the bus fares a shock? I get a week's pass (£14, unlimited journeys) - better value than paying for a fixed number of journeys to be added to your Oyster card.
I don't suppose that you have ever corresponded with the great Riverbend (Iraqi blogger) but, if you have (I have, many times), don't admit it to US Customs. That alone will make you "a person of interest", and you will be detained for much longer than 45 minutes.
I hope Canada lives up to all your hopes and dreams missus.
It's very big that's for sure. Living in Scotland I think it is just like here to the power ten.
But then I learned the other day that Scotland was once attached to N E America millions of years ago, so maybe that explains it - that and the fact that 50% of Scots settled there.
As for a tip - use your flat tonic to make ice cubes for your G&T, it doesn't dilute it the way water does, and you'll never get malaria.
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