"Miss You Mondays": Thunderstorms

Last night it hailed so hard that it woke me up. It was so much, so fast that I thought we were in the middle of a storm. And I have to admit, I was excited by that thought.

You see, most people outside of England think of it as a cold and eternally rainy place. Am I right? That was my impression of it before coming here.

But now that I am here, I can tell you that the rain I expected almost never comes. I have seen more snow and more hail in England than I have seen rain. Instead, England seems to just have this sort of permanent, silent “wetness” that clings to everything. It does rain. But I have only seen it three times since I have been here.

Back home, this time of year brings about days and days of storms. Thunderstorms and tornadoes. Most people would cringe at this. It’s not a heart-warming thought. I have seen terrible damage done by these storms.

But I miss it. I miss the smell of the coming rain on the air and the calm before the storm.  I miss the pounding of the rain on the roof. I miss the steady claps of thunder and flashes of light. There is a comfort and an excitement in those things that I don’t get with English rains. One of my favorite things to do before a Spring storm was to open up all the doors and windows and let the wind and the rainy smell flow into the house through the screens. The rain would sound as though it was in the house.

Can’t do that here. There aren’t screens on the doors or windows. And there hasn’t been any thunderstorms.

The Real Full English

You will recall from several posts ago that I tried my hand at making a “Full English.” (If not, you can read about it here.) And recently, on an outing, my family and I had the opportunity to try the real, authentic thing.

This dish is one of the most popular in all Britain. Most pubs I see include an ad for a “Full English” on their sidewalk chalkboard menus daily.  The few hotels we have stayed at while in England have all offered a “Full English” as part of their complimentary breakfast. This is where I had my first taste of the real thing.

 

This plate contains a few items common in American breakfasts (eggs, sausage link, “bacon” or ham) and some that are not (sautéed mushrooms, baked beans, roasted tomato, and black pudding.)

It seems that my own rendition wasn’t much off the mark. I do not apologize for omitting the black pudding. I didn’t eat it here, either. My husband and kids did try it. Needless to say…they weren’t fans.

Toast, tea, and coffee were also included in the breakfast.

The “bacon” (what we Americans would probably dub “ham”) was very good. But I am a die-hard fan of the American version.  Seriously, til the day I die. Honestly I don’t know how they live without it over here. Thank goodness we have the commissary that provides most of our American staples.

While enjoying our British Breakfast, it occurred to me that the Full English would probably provide the perfect cure for a morning hangover. It has those special hangover cure ingredients you always hear about: starch and grease.

I haven’t been able to prove it, but I would be willing to be that a hangover had something to do with the invention of the Full English…

Oh! And let me just suggest that, should you find yourself using this dish as your hangover cure, don’t substitute the traditional hot tea for coffee. Trust me, the hot tea is much gentler on the delicate state of your stomach.

In Honor of Spring: Out with the Old

I am going to be honest with y’all: I am having a really hard time finding the motivation to write. Most of the time, when an idea comes to mind, I wave it off and ask myself “What’s the point?” I think this is because my heart just really isn’t in it. I chalk that up to a combination of things.

1.)  I’m still homesick and being homesick drains your energy for doing anything.

2.)  This move, and some extra, on-the-side and completely unrelated things, have completely stressed me out and gotten me down in the dumps more than once and for longer than I should have allowed. I’m still struggling.

3.)  The weather. I am one of those unfortunate people whose moods are affected by the weather. Don't judge me. I don’t like cloudy, overcast, windy, dreary, blah days. They make me feel…well, “blah.” I’m from the South. Clear blue skies, brilliantly bright sunlight, and warm temperatures are what make me happy. So needless to say, England was not the best place for me to move to.

(Seriously, in just these few short lines, I have stopped myself twice to ask why I am bothering.)

But I don’t think these issues will go away on their own. I have to take charge.

So this is me taking charge. Starting with a whole new look, a new weekly segment, and a new dedication to writing and publishing posts. I hope the dedication will turn into motivation and spill over into other lacking areas of my life at the moment...

 

The new weekly segment has been in my mind for a while and it is really inspired by my homesickness and coping with being out of my comfort zone (in so many ways that I am sure I will be permanently scarred somehow.) I am calling it “Miss You Mondays” and it will feature an element of my normal life back in the states that is missing or completely unavailable here in the UK (and that I miss more than words can describe). This segment will allow me to vent about the changes I am having to make and will give you a peek into how different the UK is from the US.

And today is your lucky day! Know why? Because it is the first installment of the new segment! So here we go.

Today I am sorely missing: an American-sized washing machine.

To describe UK washing machines as “tiny” completely misses the mark.

I mean, look at this thing.

 

 

One load of our clothes in this consists of maybe two pairs of my pants (or one of my husband’s, or three of my kids’) and maybe three additional shirts. Or I can wash three bath towels. Literally.

Ask yourself how an American family of four manages to wash all of its weekly laundry in this thing.

 

 

Answer: It doesn’t.  

So as I write to you know, I am sitting at the “laundrette” on base, where my (several) weeks’ laundry is going through the motions in four of the industrial-size washers here.

 

By my guess, and I’m only estimating, that is about two loads of an American-sized washer in each industrial washer. So I am currently killing eight loads of laundry. And I didn’t even bring it all.

 

Yes, we had that much.

 

Sigh.