Living two lives

"Was it strange whenever you came back? Did you feel like that?" asked my sister having experienced a little bit of living a life away from home herself recently.

"Yes," I replied. "Till I realised you can't live two lives, because if you try, you aren't living the life that's in front of you right now and you'll miss out on all that life has to offer by holding on too tightly to the past."

Three years ago, I left home to live and work in SH. The first time I came back it was for a month and I spent the first two weeks feeling like a stranger in my homeland. It's unsettling. Everything's familiar and yet tinged with a subtle difference you can't put your finger on. It's frustrating. It's disconcerting, and it has a name - reverse culture shock. 

It took me the next two weeks to readjust and just when things were starting to feel normal again, it was time to go back.

It was strangely comforting going back to SH, which in a 180 degree turn had become more familiar to me than home, even as I was feeling the tug of family left behind. For the first few days, I chatted to my sister every night and emailed my parents daily, trying to keep those ties fresh and immediate. Then work and SH life took over again. I reverted to texting occasionally and emailing periodically.

The next time I came home it was less of a shock, now that I knew what to expect. Perhaps it was also because I was only home for two weeks. It was easier that round, but it still took me those two weeks to feel part of home life again. When I left (once more), I did so determined to keep in better contact with my family and friends. Again, it didn't last.

And it happened each and every time I came back till I left SH to come home for a long-term stop this June. 

favourite uk moment #5

I'm pretending to sleep. I hear a little noise of consternation and open my eyes. Little E's sat there looking at me, brows furrowed. I close my eyes again. I hear movement and jump up with a playful roar. He squeals in delight.

I pretend to sleep again. This time, when I wake up, I catch him in the midst of crawling towards me. More happy squealing.

The last time I open my eyes, he's there (!), face right in front of mine. I roar and grab him. He laughs, squeals and wriggles away before turning round to look at me: again! again!

Not quite me

I don't quite recognise the self I see from old diaries I've been going through (all part of a bigger clean-up enterprise). As I read words my 13, 15,  or even 18 year old self wrote, I don't quite know who this young, exuberant, hopelessly naive and idealistic girl is.

And yet there are certain glimmers of a person that peeks through, which makes me go, I know her!

Touchy Feely books for little hands

Little E had one ('That's not my tractor...") and the instant I saw it, I knew I had to get a similar one for Ilyas :)

 

Why polar bears? Do you have to ask?

Wow

I'm a godmother.

I'm awed, slightly bewildered, honoured and proud.

favourite UK moment #4

She's small, dressed prettily in a pink dress, and is walking along a ledge overlooking the prairie dog enclosure. We look around, there doesn't seem to be a parent in sight.

"Hello," I say.
"Hello," she replies.
"Shall we get down? Do you want to get down?"
"Yeas," she nods and holds up her little arms.

"There you go," I say, putting her safely on the ground.

unforgettable UK moment #5

Walking down the Downs towards the Zoo, I glance over to my right and am suddenly spooked. It's mid-morning and the sun is joyously out, but a chill runs down my spine. In the instant my mind says, it's just a dog, I know it isn't.

I stop. "Look," I breathe. "A fox."

A wild fox indeed, sitting absolutely still in the grass, so silent and watchful it can't be alive. I'm still spooked and am reminded of silent creatures ghosting through forests where the only sound is a slight rustle of leaves and the hint of a breeze.

Then it moves, and the spell is broken.

Who doesn't love going to the Zoo?

unforgettable moment #4

"Turn off your lamps."

We did and it plunged us into the deepest, most absolute darkness I'd ever experienced; darkness so dark you couldn't see anything, even your hand held up right in front of your eyes.

It was in this pitch black that the youngest children of Welsh coalminers at Big Pit worked, up to as long as twelve hours a day, as Trappers, opening and closing the wooden doors that regulated the flow of fresh air into the mine.

Our guide once worked at Big Pit. His first job - taking care of the pit ponies. It was also his job to bring the ponies up into the sunshine for two weeks out of the year during the festive season. And it was also his job to bring them back down.

"They weren't stupid. They didn't want to go back."

Pit ponies spent 50 out of 52 weeks deep down underground.

unforgettable UK moment #3

"We get to go into the ship?!"

Built in the very same dry dock where she now stands, she was the very first iron and screw propeller steamship to sail the seas. Her name is the SS Great Britain.

It was one of the best exhibitions I'd seen in a very long time - brilliantly imagined and stunningly executed with interactive elements (different stamps to collect!), engaging displays and well-written write-ups. 

First class bunks with washbasin.

Best of all? Your ticket is valid for a year.

unforgettable UK moment #2

Weston-Super-Mare - an exotic name for a little seaside town. I love the way it rolls off the tongue. It was also my introduction to the British seaside and the experience can be summed up in one word - windy (very, very, very, very windy). I loved it!

I now understand the need for this.

But it was on the way back when the action happened. I remember thinking, that car's too close, it's going to scratch ours. A scratch it wasn't. Thank goodness no one was hurt. 

Side air bags? I never knew they had those.

It was my very first road accident.

unforgettable UK moment #1

So there we were, walking happily through green, grassy fields. Me absolutely thrilled at actually being in The Countryside, and getting very good at figuring out country gates. 

Then (abrupt stop, slightly worriedly), "Why are there cows in this field and why are they ALL walking towards us?"

Taken after they'd lost interest in me, naturally.

Cows, afar, from the safety of a vehicle as it passes by on the motorway, are cute, benign, ooh-look animals. Up close, they're huge. And I'm small. 

We continue walking, briskly, eyes front and survive to climb over the stile into the next field. 

Curious horse.

Horses are pretty much the same as cows. Pretty when seen from a distance, slightly worrying when right in front of you, muzzle at head height. Walk cautiously away, eyes front, don't panic. We survive the horse only to see..

two dogs, one huge, charging straight at us from the bottom of the field. I freeze and think, I'm going to die as the large one stops, hardly two steps in front of me. It's barking aggressively and I don't know what to do. I hardly notice the small, yippy one. 

This is a public footpath. We have the right to be on it as it is the right of the owner to call off her dogs. She does, but doesn't do so immediately. Shaken, we hurry on, over another stile and laugh nervously. Just when we thought it was over, both dogs rush through the gap in the hedge at us again. 

This time I really think we're going to die. The owner is out of sight now, she can't see how aggressive the dogs might get, the dogs can't look to her for assurance. She recalls them and to our relief, they go. This time we hurry on.

I stop taking photos and pick up a stick from the ground. The romantic sheen of The Countryside is slightly tarnished. 

Note the stick in my hand.

The next field (oh who would have guessed) had cows in them in the corner to our right, and (oh aren't we lucky) in front of us some distance away there were two dogs. We stop and wait and see if the dogs would react. 

One of them did. It was a nice, chocolate Lab which wagged it's tail at us and then lay down in the grass. Sigh of relief. Now, what about the other dog? 

Alerted by the Lab, the black dog turned round and I thought for the third time that day I was going to die. It was a Rottweiler and it had started to growl at us.

I immediately assessed the potential escape routes available to us. We couldn't circle round the dogs because that would take us right into the middle of the cows and should the dogs decide to charge us then, I definitely wouldn't want to be in the middle of a group of panicky 1400lbs (~ 635kg) cows.    

We couldn't go back the way we came because that will take us back to the aggressive dogs and I certainly didn't want to go through that again. 

We end up standing there with no choice of action. Then, someone whistles for the dogs and they go! We give it a few moments (Are they really gone?) before inching our way across the field. 

We survive and the next few fields are blessedly empty. Till we get to another field with cows AND calves, that is. 

By then I'm sick and tired of running into livestock and with turning back not an option, I plunge straight ahead, thinking, If they charge, I run, while trying not to think of the flock of rams in the field to my left - the only place I could escape to should the cows decide I'm threatening. 

Eyes front, with determination in my step, I start walking straight at the cows and mercifully they give way albeit hesitantly. We exit the field and hit the road. I'd never been so glad to see a road before.

I like my fields to be free of scary, curious cows and crazy, barky dogs, thank you very much.

favourite UK moment #3

Little I has several favourite phrases. In no order, they are - "oh no", "oh dear", "shoes" and "car".

We're sleeping in the corner room, it's bright outside and through the door comes the sound of tiny pattering feet down the carpeted hallway. There's a quick "shhh" from the parents and on cue, clear as day, we hear a little voice go, "oh dear".

And according to dad, he probably now thinks that all dogs are "goo gurl".

The "goo gurl".

favourite UK moment #2

Am sat, playing with Little E in the beautiful sun-room of his home, way out in the countryside where all around you are fields and fields as far as the eye can see, and it's pitch black at night, apart from the faint glow of lights far away in the distance that is Bristol. He's yet to realise how amazingly fun his car wash/car park toy is and is using it as a seat for now while he plays with his toy cars.

"Vroom vroom vroom," I say, picking up a round, rubber coaster, making engine sounds and honking noises. It catches his attention and his eyes light up. Again! Again!, he demands with little squeals, holding out the coaster to me. Many more times later, I suddenly hear him say, "ba.. ba.."

Did he? Was that? Could it be?

"Vroom vroom," I say, holding out the coaster towards him. He squeals, swats it, and says, "ba ba".

Voila! He has learnt! And according to mum, he now does that to ALL coasters. :) Priceless.

favourite UK moment #1

 Ahead of us was an elderly man with his equally elderly dog crossing the grass. She was a lovely dog, long, lean, black, probably a whippet.

I had started walking some ways behind them when she turned around. I smiled at her because I like dogs. Her owner smiled too and they continued walking, but she kept lagging, kept turning round to look  at me. He urged her on, but still she whined, still she strained at her leash to try and get to me.  Her owner turned and the both of us shrugged.

I finally caught up with them at the pavement where the owner had stopped to said 'hello'. She greeted me with enthusiasm, whining happily and licking my hand.

"She thinks you're my granddaughter."

Did she really? Couldn't she tell by my scent, voice and step that I wasn't the granddaughter that she obviously loved so much? How old must she be to be so mistaken? Aww...