Friday 22 January 2010
My mobile rang in the car on the way home. 'Janine?' came a long-familiar voice.
I gasped. 'Shirley?'
It was my friend from HOH ringing from England. 'Hi hun!' she giggled.
'My God! You are phoning me! What on earth--?'
'I couldn't wait till FaceBook, love!' she squealed. 'Did you get your letter?'
'My--' Then I gasped.
'It's not what you think,' she said. 'But as soon as I got mine I rang them this afternoon to ask after you.'
'Me!' I was still in shock that she was ringing me from Norwich.
'They're not emailing it,' she said. 'They've posted them all. Yours will be a few days then. I hope I shan't spoil it by telling you--'
'Tell me!' By now Jessy was staring at me in the car.
'Well, love.... It's Pemb.'
I held my breath. Pembroke College. 'Honestly,' I said quietly, to be sure.
'Yes, love. I even checked-- we're in Foundress Court. The icky building, but it's where they put first-years, you know.'
I was shivering. 'I can't believe it....'
Shirley giggled. 'Was I wrong to ring you then?'
'No! Oh, no... love. I love it. I just....'
'I'm sorry it's not St John's,' she said, 'but it was our backup and they seem very eager. I did speak with the director a little about you....'
'Oh, Lord. What did he say?'
She giggled. 'Oh, plenty. And that we must do a duet at the piano, for the Michaelmas bop. He says it'll be expected of you. I'm afraid your father's reputation does precede you.' And she giggled again.
'So....' I drew a breath. 'We're really in.'
'Yes, love. We're really in.'
I shivered all over, right there in the car. I mean I felt like I was about to wet myself. 'We're in,' I whispered, and Jessy's eyes went wide. 'We're in.'
'I suggested they ring you, since you'll be getting your notice last of all,' Shirley said. 'Unless they've already rung your family today. It's eight here now; I reckon they're closed now.'
'Yes, of course,' I said. 'Well, look, love,' I said then, 'let me text you on FaceBook as soon as I get home. We're in the car.'
'The big green car?'
'Um... yes.'
'You must promise me a ride in that car, for when I come,' she said.
'That you may be assured of,' I smiled. 'And anything else you want. You are... a dear, sweet girl.' And I blotted my eye.
'I adore you, Janine. Oo, I can't wait till this spring!'
She is coming to visit over her spring break. We've already planned it. 'I can't either. Give your sister a hug for me.'
'And Jessy for me,' she said.
I reached over and caught Jessy's hand in the car. 'Absolutely.'
Of course there was an expected reaction at home, involving lots of squealing and cheering-- Daddy had got the call and already knew. 'Now comes the fun part,' he said-- meaning the sending of cheques for housing, postadmissions testing, books, tuition, and of course air fare-- but we will probably all go over in late August just to see me settled there. This is a dream come true for me and I cannot sit still even now.
The princess of Terncote is accepted at Cambridge. Eeek!
...
Showing posts with label Britain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Britain. Show all posts
22 January 2010
10 October 2009
About uni
Friday, 9 October 2009
I have been on the fence about uni for about three months, sitting on all six acceptance letters and worrying about having to make up my future. I have been telling other people and myself that I've narrowed it down to either University of Delaware or University of East Anglia in England. Then I got a lovely instant message from Shirley, one of my friends from HOH over in England. We tapped into our computers for half the evening and when we had signed off (too late for her, nearly 11.00 pm here) I stared at her last message for about five minutes doing nothing else. 'See you soon!' she had typed to me. I got a tear in my eye. Straight away I opened Safari and looked up the university web site. Naturally I made sure my first message had gone through and been received before sending the other one.
The second one was to U Delaware.
My whole system has been upset for about three days and this morning I finally got the email to settle my tummy. Of course I had let a few key people know of my decision, but the email from Shirley was worth all the wait. So we have a tentative date to lunch the day after I arrive-- next September! It's good because I will be here or working the ice-cream shop in New Jersey all summer first. Classes start at Michaelmas. I will have three or four friends from HOH there, as UEA is sort of the local school, and Shirley, who will be one year ahead of me (for having continued to 6th form at HOH when I had to return to the US for 11th grade) wants to be my roommie. I will be among familiar people and in a land I love, and Daddy and Mother have promised to visit often and to request my presence home to Terncote for every holiday. In the meantime Jessy and I shall plan a visit over our Easter break-- and I will have shopping to do and people to catch up with. I am excited-- and eager for the challenge of making it work.
Thanks be to God.
...
I have been on the fence about uni for about three months, sitting on all six acceptance letters and worrying about having to make up my future. I have been telling other people and myself that I've narrowed it down to either University of Delaware or University of East Anglia in England. Then I got a lovely instant message from Shirley, one of my friends from HOH over in England. We tapped into our computers for half the evening and when we had signed off (too late for her, nearly 11.00 pm here) I stared at her last message for about five minutes doing nothing else. 'See you soon!' she had typed to me. I got a tear in my eye. Straight away I opened Safari and looked up the university web site. Naturally I made sure my first message had gone through and been received before sending the other one.
The second one was to U Delaware.
My whole system has been upset for about three days and this morning I finally got the email to settle my tummy. Of course I had let a few key people know of my decision, but the email from Shirley was worth all the wait. So we have a tentative date to lunch the day after I arrive-- next September! It's good because I will be here or working the ice-cream shop in New Jersey all summer first. Classes start at Michaelmas. I will have three or four friends from HOH there, as UEA is sort of the local school, and Shirley, who will be one year ahead of me (for having continued to 6th form at HOH when I had to return to the US for 11th grade) wants to be my roommie. I will be among familiar people and in a land I love, and Daddy and Mother have promised to visit often and to request my presence home to Terncote for every holiday. In the meantime Jessy and I shall plan a visit over our Easter break-- and I will have shopping to do and people to catch up with. I am excited-- and eager for the challenge of making it work.
Thanks be to God.
...
30 August 2009
More intense decompression
Thursday, 27 August 2009
Under threat of a drizzle I came inside and am sitting here in my room, my usual room, up stairs at Terncote in Virginia. It has been a very dizzying three weeks! But England is always England and that is the best part about it, so it is worth any amount of airplane rides and waiting in queues. Daddy said once, after his first tour there, in the '80s, that there'll always be an England because people in England say that there'll always be an England. Or, as people would say now, it is what it is. And that is why you go to see it.
A few things changed in the year since we were there last. Of course the house we had taken is let again, this time to a nice American doctor and his wife whom everyone knows and likes. It is a lovely all-brick multi-gabled house from about 1870 with a red-gravel garden walk and a bright blue door above which is the room Jessy and I had for two years. There is a dovecote in the eave, there are mice in the garage and rabbits live under the back steps. In back is a garden that trips down gentle terracing to the preserve, which is mostly overgrown behind the house but spreads out into a marvellous copse of wild fruit trees and thick green grass. I used to wander out there by myself and take off my clothes and inhale the sweet wet fragrances of the woods, and it was like I was getting high on the whole idea of being there, being naked, being free and happy, and being myself (which of course is how I am since we have come back and have lived here). Once on a fine English summer afternoon I lay down naked in a bed of that thick grass and stared up through a few gaps in the trees at the clouds passing by, and I was there over an hour like that till I realised people would be wondering about me. It is a unique memory-- for I only ever got to do that once-- and something I know only I will ever appreciate. But it is the kind of innocent indulgence that Jessy and I do here, now, and I know that no one else really fully understands it.
Our friends from HOH have all moved along with their lives-- some are dating new people, some are not dating any more, some have left the school, which is very sad. English schools thrive on people being committed to them, but it is always a case of 'school choice' as it is called here, and there are always times when someone leaves before 5th or 6th year and is missed horribly. Even less welcome, I did run into Henry, the boy I dated during 4th and part of 5th year, who is a year older and having completed 6th form, with honours, moves on to university. 'You look well, Janine,' he said to me. I blushed (WHY?). I do look well. From so much sun I am tanner and my face is clearer and I am probably a little better shaped, but his opinion can't possibly matter to me now. Still I suppose it was inevitable we would meet, if only at the food court in the shopping arcade, and I handled it as well as I could have. My journal from that time is still kept in handwritten notes and is not on this computer. I let my stepmother read it once and she got as far as the part when Henry was petting me under my skirt and I had not said 'no' yet, and she put it away and said, 'No, thank you, Janine!' I giggled at that at the time because her journal, most of which she has let me read, is somewhat racier than mine could ever have been (I won't say in what way!) and like hers mine is only honest and accurate, you know. I felt at the time that Henry's 'attempts' (for no, he was never successful in what he wanted from me) were important enough to be included. Now when I look back on it it's pretty embarrassing. This happens to girls all the time, and it's little more than a mild nuisance, and here I was in my journal making it into a momentous occasion. But it was a first for me, and at the time I had wondered how it would be, for the rest of my life, to be able to say that a not-so-blessed event had taken place during my family's two-year stay in England... and how many girls could have said that?
I consider that such an event would have been much worse than 'not so blessed' and it didn't happen there and hasn't here either, and, since Henry has no way of knowing that, I revel in his uncertainty. He may accuse me of 'going back to my own kind' all he wants now. What I have gained from having lived there far outweighs what I would have lost had I followed his wishes.
Also I had on a great little pale-green twill skirt and my sleeveless navy cotton top and looked great that day in the arcade (Jessy said some other guys were watching me). So Henry can suffer.
Speaking of Jessy she did-- well, after we had arrived at Lady B's- let me know that a certain little-more blessed event had taken place when she went in to change and wash up in the airplane toilet on the way over. We had taken a change of things for the ride, just to arrive feeling fresh. I had not really taken advantage of it, feeling much too sleepy (I napped in Lady B's car halfway up the A11) and you know the experience of getting out of everything in the tiny airplane toilet just to change your panties is just too much effort. Last time I tried it I bumped the latch on the door and it opened (only a little) and that was too disconcerting to forget this time. But Jessy climbed past my seat and went in there with her little bag, and of course, being Jessy, she took much more advantage of the opportunity than I had expected. She told me that night in bed.
'You didn't!' I said.
She nodded, somewhat proud of herself.
'That's why you were in there so long?'
'It almost didn't come,' she said. 'And then it got frustrating.'
'You didn't have to!' I said.
'Yes, but I wanted to try it, to say I've done it.'
I giggled. 'How was it?'
She shrugged in the bed. 'It got pretty hard to keep my mouth shut.'
Airplane toilets are hardly secure, you know. One must be very quiet no matter what business you are doing.
'So were you short of breath?' I teased. You know, because the air in an airliner is pressurised only to about 8000 feet, so it would be like doing it whilst up in the Rockies. Hence the expression 'mile-high club'.
'Yes,' she said. 'But not because of the cabin.'
I laughed at her. Well-- that is one event she can say for ever that she's done.
There were many more adventures we had on our trip and I will attempt to relate some of them as this blog proceeds. For now I will say that when we got in to Philadelphia on Tuesday evening we were all very exhausted and drove out to the beach house (in NJ) straight away, where there was a party of some friends and relatives that went quite late. Little J.J. slept through it all-- he tends to sleep very well. I, typically for a twit, attempted to live a perfectly normal life in Greenwich DST+5 till Wednesday morning when Jessy and I walked over the dune to the beach and I fell asleep on the blanket for about two or three hours. Passing people thought I was dead. Jessy covered me with a towel against the sun and explained to two men who passed by that I was not hung over, that it was only jet lag. But in a way what the men assumed was correct too, for I am still coming down from the reverie of having been to England again.
This morning Roger arrived and drove Jessy and me home to Terncote in order than we may keep some engagements, specifically a dinner with the girls' club tonight. As the car pulled up in the yard I kicked off my shoes. As we walked up the steps I unbuttoned the shirt. We carried our own bags in to the house, leaving Roger to take the car back on his own. Jessy went round opening windows in the back to the sea air. I dropped my bags in the front hall with the shirt. I peeled down my shorts and left them in the parlour. I opened the French windows and went out, prising off the bra and leaving it on the step. I shimmied out of the panties on the terrace and dove straight into the pool. Jessy came out and giggled at me. But I felt absolutely great and within ten minutes, after she had joined me, I was swimming my 'usual' 25 laps. Today I did 30. And I still feel great.
Now I sit here in my room, not having got dressed, revelling in all that has happened in this very long and still-incomplete blog. Well-- I have two weeks left in which to finish it before school begins!
And I still haven't picked up my clothes.
...
Under threat of a drizzle I came inside and am sitting here in my room, my usual room, up stairs at Terncote in Virginia. It has been a very dizzying three weeks! But England is always England and that is the best part about it, so it is worth any amount of airplane rides and waiting in queues. Daddy said once, after his first tour there, in the '80s, that there'll always be an England because people in England say that there'll always be an England. Or, as people would say now, it is what it is. And that is why you go to see it.
A few things changed in the year since we were there last. Of course the house we had taken is let again, this time to a nice American doctor and his wife whom everyone knows and likes. It is a lovely all-brick multi-gabled house from about 1870 with a red-gravel garden walk and a bright blue door above which is the room Jessy and I had for two years. There is a dovecote in the eave, there are mice in the garage and rabbits live under the back steps. In back is a garden that trips down gentle terracing to the preserve, which is mostly overgrown behind the house but spreads out into a marvellous copse of wild fruit trees and thick green grass. I used to wander out there by myself and take off my clothes and inhale the sweet wet fragrances of the woods, and it was like I was getting high on the whole idea of being there, being naked, being free and happy, and being myself (which of course is how I am since we have come back and have lived here). Once on a fine English summer afternoon I lay down naked in a bed of that thick grass and stared up through a few gaps in the trees at the clouds passing by, and I was there over an hour like that till I realised people would be wondering about me. It is a unique memory-- for I only ever got to do that once-- and something I know only I will ever appreciate. But it is the kind of innocent indulgence that Jessy and I do here, now, and I know that no one else really fully understands it.
Our friends from HOH have all moved along with their lives-- some are dating new people, some are not dating any more, some have left the school, which is very sad. English schools thrive on people being committed to them, but it is always a case of 'school choice' as it is called here, and there are always times when someone leaves before 5th or 6th year and is missed horribly. Even less welcome, I did run into Henry, the boy I dated during 4th and part of 5th year, who is a year older and having completed 6th form, with honours, moves on to university. 'You look well, Janine,' he said to me. I blushed (WHY?). I do look well. From so much sun I am tanner and my face is clearer and I am probably a little better shaped, but his opinion can't possibly matter to me now. Still I suppose it was inevitable we would meet, if only at the food court in the shopping arcade, and I handled it as well as I could have. My journal from that time is still kept in handwritten notes and is not on this computer. I let my stepmother read it once and she got as far as the part when Henry was petting me under my skirt and I had not said 'no' yet, and she put it away and said, 'No, thank you, Janine!' I giggled at that at the time because her journal, most of which she has let me read, is somewhat racier than mine could ever have been (I won't say in what way!) and like hers mine is only honest and accurate, you know. I felt at the time that Henry's 'attempts' (for no, he was never successful in what he wanted from me) were important enough to be included. Now when I look back on it it's pretty embarrassing. This happens to girls all the time, and it's little more than a mild nuisance, and here I was in my journal making it into a momentous occasion. But it was a first for me, and at the time I had wondered how it would be, for the rest of my life, to be able to say that a not-so-blessed event had taken place during my family's two-year stay in England... and how many girls could have said that?
I consider that such an event would have been much worse than 'not so blessed' and it didn't happen there and hasn't here either, and, since Henry has no way of knowing that, I revel in his uncertainty. He may accuse me of 'going back to my own kind' all he wants now. What I have gained from having lived there far outweighs what I would have lost had I followed his wishes.
Also I had on a great little pale-green twill skirt and my sleeveless navy cotton top and looked great that day in the arcade (Jessy said some other guys were watching me). So Henry can suffer.
Speaking of Jessy she did-- well, after we had arrived at Lady B's- let me know that a certain little-more blessed event had taken place when she went in to change and wash up in the airplane toilet on the way over. We had taken a change of things for the ride, just to arrive feeling fresh. I had not really taken advantage of it, feeling much too sleepy (I napped in Lady B's car halfway up the A11) and you know the experience of getting out of everything in the tiny airplane toilet just to change your panties is just too much effort. Last time I tried it I bumped the latch on the door and it opened (only a little) and that was too disconcerting to forget this time. But Jessy climbed past my seat and went in there with her little bag, and of course, being Jessy, she took much more advantage of the opportunity than I had expected. She told me that night in bed.
'You didn't!' I said.
She nodded, somewhat proud of herself.
'That's why you were in there so long?'
'It almost didn't come,' she said. 'And then it got frustrating.'
'You didn't have to!' I said.
'Yes, but I wanted to try it, to say I've done it.'
I giggled. 'How was it?'
She shrugged in the bed. 'It got pretty hard to keep my mouth shut.'
Airplane toilets are hardly secure, you know. One must be very quiet no matter what business you are doing.
'So were you short of breath?' I teased. You know, because the air in an airliner is pressurised only to about 8000 feet, so it would be like doing it whilst up in the Rockies. Hence the expression 'mile-high club'.
'Yes,' she said. 'But not because of the cabin.'
I laughed at her. Well-- that is one event she can say for ever that she's done.
There were many more adventures we had on our trip and I will attempt to relate some of them as this blog proceeds. For now I will say that when we got in to Philadelphia on Tuesday evening we were all very exhausted and drove out to the beach house (in NJ) straight away, where there was a party of some friends and relatives that went quite late. Little J.J. slept through it all-- he tends to sleep very well. I, typically for a twit, attempted to live a perfectly normal life in Greenwich DST+5 till Wednesday morning when Jessy and I walked over the dune to the beach and I fell asleep on the blanket for about two or three hours. Passing people thought I was dead. Jessy covered me with a towel against the sun and explained to two men who passed by that I was not hung over, that it was only jet lag. But in a way what the men assumed was correct too, for I am still coming down from the reverie of having been to England again.
This morning Roger arrived and drove Jessy and me home to Terncote in order than we may keep some engagements, specifically a dinner with the girls' club tonight. As the car pulled up in the yard I kicked off my shoes. As we walked up the steps I unbuttoned the shirt. We carried our own bags in to the house, leaving Roger to take the car back on his own. Jessy went round opening windows in the back to the sea air. I dropped my bags in the front hall with the shirt. I peeled down my shorts and left them in the parlour. I opened the French windows and went out, prising off the bra and leaving it on the step. I shimmied out of the panties on the terrace and dove straight into the pool. Jessy came out and giggled at me. But I felt absolutely great and within ten minutes, after she had joined me, I was swimming my 'usual' 25 laps. Today I did 30. And I still feel great.
Now I sit here in my room, not having got dressed, revelling in all that has happened in this very long and still-incomplete blog. Well-- I have two weeks left in which to finish it before school begins!
And I still haven't picked up my clothes.
...
In England, week 2+
August 15-25, 2009 (posted by Janine, 20.50, Sun 30 Aug 2009-- Terncote)
Sat 15 Aug
- Touring British Museum. Little J.J. ecstatic with fossils, paleoglyphs, and-- for some reason-- stuffed birds. Dinner in Kensington High Street
Sun 16 Aug
- Attend Mass at St Martin's.
- Ride tourist boat down river to Greenwich, see Cutty Sark (J.J.'s treat). Lunch at same Italian restaurant at which Daddy and his bandmates ate on first tour of England in '80s. Visit to Observatory, Queen's House.
- Ride ferry across to Dockyards and ride light rail/tube to Covent Garden, see street show. Returned to hotel very late & very tired!
Mon 17 Aug
- Shopping with Jessy in Chelsea King's Road. Bought silk scarf, ugly but genuine jade-and-sterling bracelet, cute linen/wool charcoal miniskirt.
- Lunch in King's Road, met two cute guys, talked, etc.
- Out for pizza with family.
Tue 18 Aug
- Drizzle today. Drove up to Norwich with family.
- Shopping in town, ran into Henry (ex) in the arcade. This was a little odd, or just awkward.
- Jessy and I to Melanie's sister's 13th BD party near where we used to live.
Wed 19 Aug
- Horseback riding in preserve (adjacent to house we had there) with Jill and Pam.
- Sleepover at friends' house, 6 girls in one room half on top of each other which reminded us of HOH dorms!
Thu 20 Aug
- Late brunch at friends' house, which meant a late lunch at pub in town. Shopping-- mailed postcards and gifts home
- An (indoor) swim party at other friend's house, afternoon/evening. barbecue, etc. This was mainly in our honour.
Fri 21 Aug
- Long-scheduled garden party at Lady B's (her delayed birthday), a lovely catered affair in a lovely 17th-century garden. I wore my new short charcoal miniskirt and navy pumps with a bright chartreuse top and matching socks. A professor friend of Daddy's (older than he is) made conversation and we talked about uni. Someone said later I looked 25 but not 17. I did NOT consider this offensive!
Sat 22 Aug
- Daddy led the usual trip to the fens, went for long hike along sea wall, played on swings, had fish-and-chips in small pub.
- Dinner at Pizza Hut with Daddy's friend (his drummer from second band) and his family-- kind of a reunion.
Sun 23 Aug
- Drove back down to London, returned rental car (can't drive into the city!) and checked back in to Swallow.
- Met friends from HOH in KHS for late supper.
Mon 24 Aug
- Swimming in bikinis in hotel (indoor) pool, met (or were ogled by) some German guys with really bad English and worse body odor.
- Lunch with Jessy, Daddy and two of his music-business associates, discussed my future CD (if you can believe that) and got encouraged to take up dance again (because it helps when doing a music video... if you can believe that). Daddy just does not want me to go to university!
- Went down to club in Piccadilly with Jessy, Daddy to see live band. Met members, exchanged numbers & email, etc. Returned to hotel very late.
Tue 25 Aug
- Flying home with family, arrived home at beach house in NJ about 7.30 pm. Some friends and relatives welcomed us home with small party. I stayed up very late and as a result would be completely knackered on beach tomorrow!
...
Sat 15 Aug
- Touring British Museum. Little J.J. ecstatic with fossils, paleoglyphs, and-- for some reason-- stuffed birds. Dinner in Kensington High Street
Sun 16 Aug
- Attend Mass at St Martin's.
- Ride tourist boat down river to Greenwich, see Cutty Sark (J.J.'s treat). Lunch at same Italian restaurant at which Daddy and his bandmates ate on first tour of England in '80s. Visit to Observatory, Queen's House.
- Ride ferry across to Dockyards and ride light rail/tube to Covent Garden, see street show. Returned to hotel very late & very tired!
Mon 17 Aug
- Shopping with Jessy in Chelsea King's Road. Bought silk scarf, ugly but genuine jade-and-sterling bracelet, cute linen/wool charcoal miniskirt.
- Lunch in King's Road, met two cute guys, talked, etc.
- Out for pizza with family.
Tue 18 Aug
- Drizzle today. Drove up to Norwich with family.
- Shopping in town, ran into Henry (ex) in the arcade. This was a little odd, or just awkward.
- Jessy and I to Melanie's sister's 13th BD party near where we used to live.
Wed 19 Aug
- Horseback riding in preserve (adjacent to house we had there) with Jill and Pam.
- Sleepover at friends' house, 6 girls in one room half on top of each other which reminded us of HOH dorms!
Thu 20 Aug
- Late brunch at friends' house, which meant a late lunch at pub in town. Shopping-- mailed postcards and gifts home
- An (indoor) swim party at other friend's house, afternoon/evening. barbecue, etc. This was mainly in our honour.
Fri 21 Aug
- Long-scheduled garden party at Lady B's (her delayed birthday), a lovely catered affair in a lovely 17th-century garden. I wore my new short charcoal miniskirt and navy pumps with a bright chartreuse top and matching socks. A professor friend of Daddy's (older than he is) made conversation and we talked about uni. Someone said later I looked 25 but not 17. I did NOT consider this offensive!
Sat 22 Aug
- Daddy led the usual trip to the fens, went for long hike along sea wall, played on swings, had fish-and-chips in small pub.
- Dinner at Pizza Hut with Daddy's friend (his drummer from second band) and his family-- kind of a reunion.
Sun 23 Aug
- Drove back down to London, returned rental car (can't drive into the city!) and checked back in to Swallow.
- Met friends from HOH in KHS for late supper.
Mon 24 Aug
- Swimming in bikinis in hotel (indoor) pool, met (or were ogled by) some German guys with really bad English and worse body odor.
- Lunch with Jessy, Daddy and two of his music-business associates, discussed my future CD (if you can believe that) and got encouraged to take up dance again (because it helps when doing a music video... if you can believe that). Daddy just does not want me to go to university!
- Went down to club in Piccadilly with Jessy, Daddy to see live band. Met members, exchanged numbers & email, etc. Returned to hotel very late.
Tue 25 Aug
- Flying home with family, arrived home at beach house in NJ about 7.30 pm. Some friends and relatives welcomed us home with small party. I stayed up very late and as a result would be completely knackered on beach tomorrow!
...
14 August 2009
In England, week 1
August 7-14, 2009 (posted by Janine, 00.30 Sat 15 Aug-- London)
Itinerary for the first week:
Sat 8 Aug
- Depart Philadelphia, 6.20 PM
Sun 9 Aug
- Arrive Gatwick, 6.55 AM
- Train to Norfolk (stops twice in London)
- Met by Lady B at train depot, Aylsham.
- Lunch, drive to her house.
Mon 10 Aug
- Conference at UEA, outside Norwich, 10 AM. (I am already accepted here for 2010.)
- Lunch with Lady B, Norfolk city
- Drive past house we rented 2006-2008, photos
- Meet friends from HOH for supper, ice cream, watch '17 Again' and 'John Tucker Must Die' on DVD
Tue 11 Aug
- Conference at U York, 11 AM. (I am tentatively accepted at the meeting.)
- Lunch with Lady B, shopping in York
- Return to Aylsham, eve. (this is like a 3-hour drive.) Games and supper with Lady B & her dad
Wed 12 Aug
- Hanging out with HOH friends, shopping, swimming at pool. 'Near-death experience' when Cara lets wheels slide off tarmac and car almost goes into boggy grass. All are safe. Car muddy. Girls giggly (defence mechanism against being scared witless).
Thu 13 Aug (Rain, slight.)
- Meeting at U Cambridge, AM (Jessy expresses an interest and this ends up being two separate meetings.)
- Meet Daddy, Mother, Lisa & J.J. for lunch (they arrive this morning)
- Return to Lady B's for evening, supper. Watch 'Emma' on DVD-- Lisa glued to it.
Fri 14 Aug
- Visiting Houghton Hall, Houghton beach with Lady B, photos, etc
- Drive down to London, PM, check into Swallow, Earl's Court. Jessy and I have long walk in town, take photos, get propositioned by cute but somewhat rude guys. Making plans for tomorrow.
...
Itinerary for the first week:
Sat 8 Aug
- Depart Philadelphia, 6.20 PM
Sun 9 Aug
- Arrive Gatwick, 6.55 AM
- Train to Norfolk (stops twice in London)
- Met by Lady B at train depot, Aylsham.
- Lunch, drive to her house.
Mon 10 Aug
- Conference at UEA, outside Norwich, 10 AM. (I am already accepted here for 2010.)
- Lunch with Lady B, Norfolk city
- Drive past house we rented 2006-2008, photos
- Meet friends from HOH for supper, ice cream, watch '17 Again' and 'John Tucker Must Die' on DVD
Tue 11 Aug
- Conference at U York, 11 AM. (I am tentatively accepted at the meeting.)
- Lunch with Lady B, shopping in York
- Return to Aylsham, eve. (this is like a 3-hour drive.) Games and supper with Lady B & her dad
Wed 12 Aug
- Hanging out with HOH friends, shopping, swimming at pool. 'Near-death experience' when Cara lets wheels slide off tarmac and car almost goes into boggy grass. All are safe. Car muddy. Girls giggly (defence mechanism against being scared witless).
Thu 13 Aug (Rain, slight.)
- Meeting at U Cambridge, AM (Jessy expresses an interest and this ends up being two separate meetings.)
- Meet Daddy, Mother, Lisa & J.J. for lunch (they arrive this morning)
- Return to Lady B's for evening, supper. Watch 'Emma' on DVD-- Lisa glued to it.
Fri 14 Aug
- Visiting Houghton Hall, Houghton beach with Lady B, photos, etc
- Drive down to London, PM, check into Swallow, Earl's Court. Jessy and I have long walk in town, take photos, get propositioned by cute but somewhat rude guys. Making plans for tomorrow.
...
To pack, or not to pack
To England....
Friday 7 August 2009
Jessy and I have made this trip enough times now that we know the routine. Even post-9/11 there are still things you can get away with and things you can't. For example they have basically given over that ridiculous rule where you can't have a bottle of shampoo in your carry-on bag, you know. It had been getting just a little too much. I mean honestly-- do I look like a Middle Eastern terrorist?
Being minors flying without adults is another issue-- actually this tends to be more off-putting than our appearance, when it comes to the airport security people perceiving us as a problem. They are so busy checking our travel documents-- passports, school ID, letter and signature from parents, letter and signature from person responsible for us when we get there, and so on-- that they really don't regard our luggage as much of a threat. Nevertheless we would be prudent.
We each have a nice canvas attaché bag from Land's End, into which we put a padded sleeve housing the laptop. In this bag also goes anything we need for the flight-- books or magazines, iPod, mobile phone, and the all-important supplies in case of lost luggage-- shampoo and soap, toothpaste and toothbrush, deodorant, hairbrush, a change of underwear and t-shirt, and something warm in case we're stuck outside in the rain, you know. Since the first time we flew with Mother, when she was our nanny, we have learnt to carry also a change of clothes for the ride, if only an extra pair of clean panties and a t-shirt. There is NOTHING like being able to duck into the airplane lavatory, and wash your face, brush your teeth and change your underwear before landing! --if you have never done this, do it at all costs next time. You won't be sorry. (Just make sure the panties you bring along are pretty conservative. They will open this bag in front of you, all their coworkers, and every other stranger in the queue. Horrors happen.)
As far as clothes we generally pack:
- Jeans, khaki pants
- One good sweatshirt nice enough to wear anywhere
- One good jacket, usually navy-blue or dark-grey (I actually am bringing my HOH blazer!)
- T-shirts, especially nice ones
- All the underwear (both parts) I can fit in my case, not to be less than 1-1/2 full sets per day, so, counting on doing washing at Lady B's before Thursday that means about 15 pairs of panties and at least 8 bras
- Socks
- COMFORTABLE dress shoes-- honestly, I have these $11.99 Easy-Walker knockoffs from Payless that are soft, navy, 2-1/4" and comfy. I will likely wear them to all my meetings and wear Adidas otherwise
- Sunglasses & hats
- Other stuff, you know, but this is the must-have list.
The rest of our stuff goes in the bigger bags which will be checked for the baggage compartment.
Things we DO NOT pack include:
- Bigger than travel-size of hair-care bottles and deodorant
- CDs. This is what the iPod is for.
- Anything too warm (no need), anything too dressy (only gets wrinkled to sin in bags), more than one swimsuit (really?), too-short shorts, irreplaceable jewellry.
- Food. They confiscate it.
- Fluffy animals. When we relocated back to the US from England, almost exactly one year ago, I had all mine sent in the FedEx shipment. Only Cinnamon travels with me-- he'll be in my checked case, though, poor soul-- there is no room for him in the computer bag.
- Pads. This is the very stupidest thing to pack-- they take up so much room! (It's like packing air!) Carry only what you would carry in your purse for a day or two and buy them when you get to where you are going. I've known girls who buy a full box (or two!) before they depart and pack it in their luggage. Do they really think there are no sanitary napkins in England? (Of course tampons are less of a space problem... but to a lesser degree the same truth holds for them too.)
...
Friday 7 August 2009
Jessy and I have made this trip enough times now that we know the routine. Even post-9/11 there are still things you can get away with and things you can't. For example they have basically given over that ridiculous rule where you can't have a bottle of shampoo in your carry-on bag, you know. It had been getting just a little too much. I mean honestly-- do I look like a Middle Eastern terrorist?
Being minors flying without adults is another issue-- actually this tends to be more off-putting than our appearance, when it comes to the airport security people perceiving us as a problem. They are so busy checking our travel documents-- passports, school ID, letter and signature from parents, letter and signature from person responsible for us when we get there, and so on-- that they really don't regard our luggage as much of a threat. Nevertheless we would be prudent.
We each have a nice canvas attaché bag from Land's End, into which we put a padded sleeve housing the laptop. In this bag also goes anything we need for the flight-- books or magazines, iPod, mobile phone, and the all-important supplies in case of lost luggage-- shampoo and soap, toothpaste and toothbrush, deodorant, hairbrush, a change of underwear and t-shirt, and something warm in case we're stuck outside in the rain, you know. Since the first time we flew with Mother, when she was our nanny, we have learnt to carry also a change of clothes for the ride, if only an extra pair of clean panties and a t-shirt. There is NOTHING like being able to duck into the airplane lavatory, and wash your face, brush your teeth and change your underwear before landing! --if you have never done this, do it at all costs next time. You won't be sorry. (Just make sure the panties you bring along are pretty conservative. They will open this bag in front of you, all their coworkers, and every other stranger in the queue. Horrors happen.)
As far as clothes we generally pack:
- Jeans, khaki pants
- One good sweatshirt nice enough to wear anywhere
- One good jacket, usually navy-blue or dark-grey (I actually am bringing my HOH blazer!)
- T-shirts, especially nice ones
- All the underwear (both parts) I can fit in my case, not to be less than 1-1/2 full sets per day, so, counting on doing washing at Lady B's before Thursday that means about 15 pairs of panties and at least 8 bras
- Socks
- COMFORTABLE dress shoes-- honestly, I have these $11.99 Easy-Walker knockoffs from Payless that are soft, navy, 2-1/4" and comfy. I will likely wear them to all my meetings and wear Adidas otherwise
- Sunglasses & hats
- Other stuff, you know, but this is the must-have list.
The rest of our stuff goes in the bigger bags which will be checked for the baggage compartment.
Things we DO NOT pack include:
- Bigger than travel-size of hair-care bottles and deodorant
- CDs. This is what the iPod is for.
- Anything too warm (no need), anything too dressy (only gets wrinkled to sin in bags), more than one swimsuit (really?), too-short shorts, irreplaceable jewellry.
- Food. They confiscate it.
- Fluffy animals. When we relocated back to the US from England, almost exactly one year ago, I had all mine sent in the FedEx shipment. Only Cinnamon travels with me-- he'll be in my checked case, though, poor soul-- there is no room for him in the computer bag.
- Pads. This is the very stupidest thing to pack-- they take up so much room! (It's like packing air!) Carry only what you would carry in your purse for a day or two and buy them when you get to where you are going. I've known girls who buy a full box (or two!) before they depart and pack it in their luggage. Do they really think there are no sanitary napkins in England? (Of course tampons are less of a space problem... but to a lesser degree the same truth holds for them too.)
...
20 March 2009
St Patrick's Day... bah!
Tuesday 17 March 2009
Jessy took Daddy up on a dare this morning and came down stairs in her close-fitting khakis, black shoes, and a navy-blue long-sleeved tee with another tee over it... and the other tee was her St Patrick's Day shirt.
Daddy claims he has never been a fan of the Irish cause. The whole issue of the Troubles aggravates him so much that ever since Bloody Sunday he has been avoiding green on St Patrick's Day. But he has reasons.
1. Our family heritage does not include ANY Irish. Actually, my sister Jessy and I are ethnically English three times more than anything else.
2. We are not liberals. We do not support the overthrow of a monarchy that has worked, in one form of another, for over 1100 years.
3. We are nonviolent and Christian and believe in the Martin Luther King philosophy that all good things come to those who keep faith and refrain from violence, and not the Malcolm X philosophy that you have to achieve your goals by violence if it's easier or necessary, like Sein Fein and the IRA believe. (The British in Northern Ireland have used police force when necessary. The IRA have used terroristic tactics when expedient. They are not the same thing at all.)
4. We are not Catholic. In fact as a family we object to a culture that believes in 'one island, one nation, one religion' as Irish President Mary Fitzpatrick said in the 1980s. We also object to liberal American Catholics seeking capitalist American money to support a political action group who seek to establish 'one nation, one religion' in a foreign country. These are the same Americans who would object very loudly indeed if a president of this country were to take foreign money and say, 'one nation, one religion'-- unless of course it was THEIR religion. Being liberal relativists they should therefore understand my family's objections... but they don't because they're just liberal relativists.
5. We are more 'politically correct' than most people who say they are. The problem with the liberal/relativists' concept of 'politically correct' is that it's only considered 'correct' if it supports THEIR side. But if you look at it objectively you will see that, on a cultural level, it's kind of offensive to assume that 'everyone has a little Irish in them'. It's also kind of offensive to support a cause that deliberately offends what someone else believes in. I always thought 'political correctness' was about not offending anyone, but it seems to be more about certain people being allowed to offend only certain people. After all, in modern American culture, the English are the only people you're actually SUPPOSED to offend. As an Anglo-American, that offends me.
6. St Patrick was an English Roman Catholic monk who was sent to Ireland to convert druids in about 375 AD. Ironically, while the Irish complain that their native celtic (Druid) culture has been deliberately washed away or covered up by the English, as a nation they are firm supporters of the religion this Englishman gave them. Who is the hypocrite?
Jessy's St Patrick's Day shirt has a screen print of the Union Flag front and back (though it is intended to be a shirt and not a flag). I have one too-- we each bought one in London when we were visiting the Tower-- but as this is a new school I was a little wary of wearing it. Jessy would not shrink from the dare. Daddy congratulated her (laughing though. This is really only as serious as people wearing green is... but there is a point to it). All day at school people were coming up and saying to her, 'Cool shirt' (it's the first she's worn it since we moved here). It was funny because although everyone noticed it was not green, only a few people happened to notice that it was making a statement. Some people really don't see the significance of symbolism like this.
Then again-- maybe that's just living in America.
(Now all the liberal/relativists will email or IM me to say I have offended them for saying that I have been offended by a tradition they took for granted. Either you're tolerant of all points of view, or you're not.)
...
Jessy took Daddy up on a dare this morning and came down stairs in her close-fitting khakis, black shoes, and a navy-blue long-sleeved tee with another tee over it... and the other tee was her St Patrick's Day shirt.
Daddy claims he has never been a fan of the Irish cause. The whole issue of the Troubles aggravates him so much that ever since Bloody Sunday he has been avoiding green on St Patrick's Day. But he has reasons.
1. Our family heritage does not include ANY Irish. Actually, my sister Jessy and I are ethnically English three times more than anything else.
2. We are not liberals. We do not support the overthrow of a monarchy that has worked, in one form of another, for over 1100 years.
3. We are nonviolent and Christian and believe in the Martin Luther King philosophy that all good things come to those who keep faith and refrain from violence, and not the Malcolm X philosophy that you have to achieve your goals by violence if it's easier or necessary, like Sein Fein and the IRA believe. (The British in Northern Ireland have used police force when necessary. The IRA have used terroristic tactics when expedient. They are not the same thing at all.)
4. We are not Catholic. In fact as a family we object to a culture that believes in 'one island, one nation, one religion' as Irish President Mary Fitzpatrick said in the 1980s. We also object to liberal American Catholics seeking capitalist American money to support a political action group who seek to establish 'one nation, one religion' in a foreign country. These are the same Americans who would object very loudly indeed if a president of this country were to take foreign money and say, 'one nation, one religion'-- unless of course it was THEIR religion. Being liberal relativists they should therefore understand my family's objections... but they don't because they're just liberal relativists.
5. We are more 'politically correct' than most people who say they are. The problem with the liberal/relativists' concept of 'politically correct' is that it's only considered 'correct' if it supports THEIR side. But if you look at it objectively you will see that, on a cultural level, it's kind of offensive to assume that 'everyone has a little Irish in them'. It's also kind of offensive to support a cause that deliberately offends what someone else believes in. I always thought 'political correctness' was about not offending anyone, but it seems to be more about certain people being allowed to offend only certain people. After all, in modern American culture, the English are the only people you're actually SUPPOSED to offend. As an Anglo-American, that offends me.
6. St Patrick was an English Roman Catholic monk who was sent to Ireland to convert druids in about 375 AD. Ironically, while the Irish complain that their native celtic (Druid) culture has been deliberately washed away or covered up by the English, as a nation they are firm supporters of the religion this Englishman gave them. Who is the hypocrite?
Jessy's St Patrick's Day shirt has a screen print of the Union Flag front and back (though it is intended to be a shirt and not a flag). I have one too-- we each bought one in London when we were visiting the Tower-- but as this is a new school I was a little wary of wearing it. Jessy would not shrink from the dare. Daddy congratulated her (laughing though. This is really only as serious as people wearing green is... but there is a point to it). All day at school people were coming up and saying to her, 'Cool shirt' (it's the first she's worn it since we moved here). It was funny because although everyone noticed it was not green, only a few people happened to notice that it was making a statement. Some people really don't see the significance of symbolism like this.
Then again-- maybe that's just living in America.
(Now all the liberal/relativists will email or IM me to say I have offended them for saying that I have been offended by a tradition they took for granted. Either you're tolerant of all points of view, or you're not.)
...
27 December 2008
God save the queen
Friday evening, 26 December 2008
Someone online asked me this afternoon if I had noticed, or if I appreciated, that I have an 'affectation' of using 'Britishisms' (a term I despise though I knew what he meant). I said yes, I know I do; but it is mostly habit and less deliberate. I spent two years in an English public school (read that, in the US: 'private school') and what I came to appreciate was a culture which was always part of my family heritage and always interested me, but to which I had always been only an outsider. It was one thing to hear about a real-life city being lived in by real-life people that happens to have a 10th-century castle right in the middle of it-- it is quite another thing to actually BE one of those people living there and being able to actually touch the 10th-century castle on a daily basis. It gives you a unique perspective, and it has expanded, not narrowed, my own. I discovered and came to love the routines of being English-- singing the national anthem and reciting a prayer for the sovereign in church (and in school) and driving on the left and calling the 'sidewalk' the 'pavement' and so on. Returning to the US a wiser and older person I honestly found it hard to remember all the words to the Pledge of Allegiance and the 'N' form of the past participle and that I have to look left, not right, when crossing a street from the kerb.
I did NOT 'pick up an accent', as someone asked me once, though at one point before I got there I did consider doing that. I confess it's been a temptation, especially living with my stepmother for so long, but though I am often accused of being a thespian I decided it would be disrespectful to do it badly and so left it to Gwyneth Paltrow who does it much, much better.
Some people will remain convinced it is really just an affectation and that by continuing to use the grammar and spellings I use I am trying to say I consider myself superior to most American people. That is a common accusation I get. My stepmother, being ethnic English and Anglican but raised in Roman Catholic Australia, has had it all her life. The saddest part of it is, as my father says, how everyone in America may be so quick to judge all things British as being inferior, but, as he says, 'not one of them would refuse an honorary knighthood.'
One 'Americanism' I have learnt to utterly deplore is the tendency to so quickly judge everything by American standards. For a country which pretends to be so 'tolerant' and 'open-minded' and 'liberal' we Yanks really are not. We do not really accept other cultures' ways of doing things without at least a little bit of feeling superior to them all, and this is nowhere truer than with the British. Disney and Mel Gibson and so many others have made millions from belittling, disparaging and incorrectly portraying British history and culture, and their ugly assumptions are what Americans have come to accept as truth. I got into an argument once online after mentioning that I had read Churchill's book 'Their Finest Hour' over the summer which clearly shows how the British fought World War Two totally ALONE on about five fronts for nearly three years before the Americans chose to become involved-- and all I got for saying this clear FACT was 'Oh, no, WE "bailed out" the Brits.' ('Well the book was written by a Brit', someone said.) The FACT is that America allowed Mr Churchill's government to suffer immeasurable losses and only got involved in the war when it served American interests to do so-- and yet, even so, the British people extend to America a grateful, admiring respect because they're just that unselfish, humble, and affectionate. It's one of the things that makes them British.
For Christmas, Mother gave to Gran the movie 'The Queen' on DVD, and we watched it tonight. When I say 'we' I mean all of us, even little J.J., nearly three, who played quietly, 'as good as gold', on the floor of the TV theatre down stairs. It is a very well-made, serious and sympathetic portrayal of HRH The Queen as she and her household coped with the death of estranged princess Diana in 1997. Naturally the filmmakers had two options with this story-- the most likely was that they would depict the queen as being cold, ruthless, hateful and spiteful, deliberately ignoring anyone's feelings but her own, sticking to principle at the cost of ethics, and so on. The least likely was that they would depict that whole situation as being so unorthodox and unpredictable that the queen deserves our sympathy for simply not knowing how to handle it. The strangest thing of all was that the filmmakers did both.
The most important statement the film 'The Queen' made was nearly at the end, when the queen explains to the eager and innocent PM Tony Blair that 'This is how I was brought up.' She (played by Dame Helen Mirren) explained that she believed the best of the British people would expect their queen to be somewhat stoic, not easily moved to mush at the loss of one person (who by her own choice wasn't even family any more). The character of PM Blair actually gets mad at one of his assistants and says how 'this woman' (the queen) has devoted her life to quiet, principled leadership, including towards a young girl (Diana) who devalued everything the queen offered to her and spent the last years of her life vocally denouncing it all over the world. The American-style mourning for Princess Di, public, emotional, unreasonable and completely out of proportion to her actual, formal status, even called for lowering the British flag on top of the palace-- though the British NEVER observe that custom even when a PM or king dies, the royal family were prevailed upon to adopt it 'just this once' for someone who had willingly and gratefully left their family and that house altogether. People (and the press, on both sides of the Atlantic) were sending public hate letters to the queen personally. This could have made me cry if not for the strong, almost stoic way in which Dame Helen played her. And when you understand what the actress was going for (yes, we watched all the 'making of' special features too) you must have some appreciation for the queen herself. After all what has made Britain as great as it has always been is the very British way in which they do things. To a Briton there really is no other way to do them.
My father has on his office wall a copy of the queen's formal Coronation portrait from 1953. He says he likes the picture, but we all sort of know better. True-- the queen herself is very pretty, a 26-year-old young mother and wife who ascends to her father's place almost shyly, but willingly-- that's a role model for any woman. But Daddy likes more what the picture represents-- almost 1000 years of unbroken tradition in culture and government without which this country of America would never have stood. America broke free of Britain because of the British way of doing things, and yet it survives for the same reason. After all there can be no unselfish, elected service and leadership without the English concept of 'noblesse oblige'-- the philosophy that the good people do the right thing just because it IS the right thing. It is 'Deus et mon droit' = 'God and my right hand' --God blesses what I do that is right, or, when I do the right thing God is with me doing it too. The point is that it is right because it is right.
The British motto is the Old French is 'Hony soi qui mal pence' -- 'Evil to he who thinks evil of it.' How Americans should learn this! It means that you condemn, you deserve to be condemned. If you judge, you deserve to be judged-- since the truly right thing is so right that only the truly evil could ever condemn it. Or, as Alexander Pope said, 'Whatever IS is right' --because it comes from God. God's will be done-- and God save the queen.
...
Someone online asked me this afternoon if I had noticed, or if I appreciated, that I have an 'affectation' of using 'Britishisms' (a term I despise though I knew what he meant). I said yes, I know I do; but it is mostly habit and less deliberate. I spent two years in an English public school (read that, in the US: 'private school') and what I came to appreciate was a culture which was always part of my family heritage and always interested me, but to which I had always been only an outsider. It was one thing to hear about a real-life city being lived in by real-life people that happens to have a 10th-century castle right in the middle of it-- it is quite another thing to actually BE one of those people living there and being able to actually touch the 10th-century castle on a daily basis. It gives you a unique perspective, and it has expanded, not narrowed, my own. I discovered and came to love the routines of being English-- singing the national anthem and reciting a prayer for the sovereign in church (and in school) and driving on the left and calling the 'sidewalk' the 'pavement' and so on. Returning to the US a wiser and older person I honestly found it hard to remember all the words to the Pledge of Allegiance and the 'N' form of the past participle and that I have to look left, not right, when crossing a street from the kerb.
I did NOT 'pick up an accent', as someone asked me once, though at one point before I got there I did consider doing that. I confess it's been a temptation, especially living with my stepmother for so long, but though I am often accused of being a thespian I decided it would be disrespectful to do it badly and so left it to Gwyneth Paltrow who does it much, much better.
Some people will remain convinced it is really just an affectation and that by continuing to use the grammar and spellings I use I am trying to say I consider myself superior to most American people. That is a common accusation I get. My stepmother, being ethnic English and Anglican but raised in Roman Catholic Australia, has had it all her life. The saddest part of it is, as my father says, how everyone in America may be so quick to judge all things British as being inferior, but, as he says, 'not one of them would refuse an honorary knighthood.'
One 'Americanism' I have learnt to utterly deplore is the tendency to so quickly judge everything by American standards. For a country which pretends to be so 'tolerant' and 'open-minded' and 'liberal' we Yanks really are not. We do not really accept other cultures' ways of doing things without at least a little bit of feeling superior to them all, and this is nowhere truer than with the British. Disney and Mel Gibson and so many others have made millions from belittling, disparaging and incorrectly portraying British history and culture, and their ugly assumptions are what Americans have come to accept as truth. I got into an argument once online after mentioning that I had read Churchill's book 'Their Finest Hour' over the summer which clearly shows how the British fought World War Two totally ALONE on about five fronts for nearly three years before the Americans chose to become involved-- and all I got for saying this clear FACT was 'Oh, no, WE "bailed out" the Brits.' ('Well the book was written by a Brit', someone said.) The FACT is that America allowed Mr Churchill's government to suffer immeasurable losses and only got involved in the war when it served American interests to do so-- and yet, even so, the British people extend to America a grateful, admiring respect because they're just that unselfish, humble, and affectionate. It's one of the things that makes them British.
For Christmas, Mother gave to Gran the movie 'The Queen' on DVD, and we watched it tonight. When I say 'we' I mean all of us, even little J.J., nearly three, who played quietly, 'as good as gold', on the floor of the TV theatre down stairs. It is a very well-made, serious and sympathetic portrayal of HRH The Queen as she and her household coped with the death of estranged princess Diana in 1997. Naturally the filmmakers had two options with this story-- the most likely was that they would depict the queen as being cold, ruthless, hateful and spiteful, deliberately ignoring anyone's feelings but her own, sticking to principle at the cost of ethics, and so on. The least likely was that they would depict that whole situation as being so unorthodox and unpredictable that the queen deserves our sympathy for simply not knowing how to handle it. The strangest thing of all was that the filmmakers did both.
The most important statement the film 'The Queen' made was nearly at the end, when the queen explains to the eager and innocent PM Tony Blair that 'This is how I was brought up.' She (played by Dame Helen Mirren) explained that she believed the best of the British people would expect their queen to be somewhat stoic, not easily moved to mush at the loss of one person (who by her own choice wasn't even family any more). The character of PM Blair actually gets mad at one of his assistants and says how 'this woman' (the queen) has devoted her life to quiet, principled leadership, including towards a young girl (Diana) who devalued everything the queen offered to her and spent the last years of her life vocally denouncing it all over the world. The American-style mourning for Princess Di, public, emotional, unreasonable and completely out of proportion to her actual, formal status, even called for lowering the British flag on top of the palace-- though the British NEVER observe that custom even when a PM or king dies, the royal family were prevailed upon to adopt it 'just this once' for someone who had willingly and gratefully left their family and that house altogether. People (and the press, on both sides of the Atlantic) were sending public hate letters to the queen personally. This could have made me cry if not for the strong, almost stoic way in which Dame Helen played her. And when you understand what the actress was going for (yes, we watched all the 'making of' special features too) you must have some appreciation for the queen herself. After all what has made Britain as great as it has always been is the very British way in which they do things. To a Briton there really is no other way to do them.
My father has on his office wall a copy of the queen's formal Coronation portrait from 1953. He says he likes the picture, but we all sort of know better. True-- the queen herself is very pretty, a 26-year-old young mother and wife who ascends to her father's place almost shyly, but willingly-- that's a role model for any woman. But Daddy likes more what the picture represents-- almost 1000 years of unbroken tradition in culture and government without which this country of America would never have stood. America broke free of Britain because of the British way of doing things, and yet it survives for the same reason. After all there can be no unselfish, elected service and leadership without the English concept of 'noblesse oblige'-- the philosophy that the good people do the right thing just because it IS the right thing. It is 'Deus et mon droit' = 'God and my right hand' --God blesses what I do that is right, or, when I do the right thing God is with me doing it too. The point is that it is right because it is right.
The British motto is the Old French is 'Hony soi qui mal pence' -- 'Evil to he who thinks evil of it.' How Americans should learn this! It means that you condemn, you deserve to be condemned. If you judge, you deserve to be judged-- since the truly right thing is so right that only the truly evil could ever condemn it. Or, as Alexander Pope said, 'Whatever IS is right' --because it comes from God. God's will be done-- and God save the queen.
...
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