Bank Holiday Monday (May 4)

For anyone reading this who is not American, first let me explain the connotation of the term "bank holiday" for an American.  A "bank holiday" to an American is a bad joke.  It's the pathetic, sorry-excuse of a holiday that no one celebrates or gets off work unless you actually work in a bank or for the government.  Americans tend to distinguish between real holidays, like Thanksgiving and Independence Day, and not-real holidays, i.e., the bank holidays, like Presidents' Day.  Most of the time we forget the bank holidays even exist, until one of our friends posts something about it on Facebook or we wonder why our mail didn't get delivered or why the trash wasn't picked up.  Advertisements for furniture (especially mattress) sales always presage bank holidays, too.

For my American friends reading this, a "bank holiday" in the UK is a Big Freaking Deal.  There is only one type of holiday, and it's a bank holiday.  It's a statutory, public holiday that everyone gets as a day off, unless you are one of the poor unfortunates working in a service industry like grocery, dining or tourism.  But in general, most businesses shut down.  Mini-holiday getaways over the long weekend are common, but a lot of people just enjoy a "staycation" and stay at home to relax, work in the garden, whatever.

Having had some past experience with the frequency of German and French holidays, I had high hopes for the UK, but the British are fairly stingy with their bank holidays, as stingy as the Americans.  Most American companies I have worked for in my life give you at least 9 or 10 paid holidays.  In the UK, you only get 8!  For 2015, they are:

• New Year's Day (Jan 1)
• Good Friday & Easter Monday (Apr 3 and 6)
• Early May (May 4)
• Spring (May 25)
• Summer (Aug 31)
• Christmas Day (Dec 25) and Boxing Day (Dec 26)

If a holiday falls on a weekend, you get either the Friday or the Monday off instead as a 'substitute' day.

For the past few years, there has been debate about making St. George's Day (the feast day for the patron saint of England) a Bank Holiday as England's national day on April 23.  Apparently there are some concerns that this might offend the Scots, Irish or Welsh (or all of the above) as well as concerns about the economic costs associated with adding another statutory public holiday, so it hasn't happened yet.  I can't really see people getting excited about a patron saint who never actually even set foot in the country, but whatever.  If it's another day off of work, I am ALL for it.

If I could pick a day to get behind, personally, I would pick November 5, because that was the date that William of Orange (William III of England) landed in 1688 during the Glorious Revolution.  The Glorious Revolution was the last time that anyone ever successfully invaded and conquered England.  It was a bloodless event which arguably established the "modern" British monarchy by deposing a hold-out believer in the Divine Right of Kings (James II).  November 5 has the benefit of occurring during a time of the year that currently lacks any bank holidays.

So yesterday (Monday) was the Early May Bank Holiday.  Why a holiday on that day?  I'm not entirely sure, but I would guess it has something to do with May Day and just picking the first Monday in the month of May.  There are still a lot of May Day and Beltane celebrations around the British Isles.  They could have come up with a more interesting name than "Early May" holiday with some minimal effort, one would think.

Anyways, after my big city escape to Amsterdam the previous weekend, I decided that this holiday weekend I should just stay home and get caught up on things and relax.  I had the best kind of Monday imaginable.  I slept in, did very little and took a nap.  My big accomplishment was making a robust breakfast.

(I don't bother with tomatoes, mushrooms or black pudding with my brekkie.  Only the good stuff.)

It wasn't raining, so I felt like I ought to get outside for a little bit of sunshine and fresh air.  I ended up taking about a 1 1/2 mile walk around my neighborhood and down to the Stamford Park, which is a medium-sized city park a couple of blocks away.  The park was filled with families out enjoying the day and was very pleasant for a stroll.  The Friends of Stamford Park volunteer group has obviously worked very hard with the landscaping, and the Springtime blooms were beautiful.  I was enjoying observing the water fowl at the pond, when I had a WTF? moment.

It's just Mama and Papa Goose keeping watch over their goslings, right?  It's always heart-warming to observe protective animal parents.

This is normal behavior for Canadian geese; they've even been known to attack humans to protect their young.

...

Canadian geese.  WTF are Canadian geese doing in England???  Canadian geese are a nuisance.  If there is any one animal I would like to hunt for the sheer joy of killing it, it would be a Canadian goose.  I've heard they are not even tasty to eat; I don't care.  I just hate them.  Why are there Canadian geese in the UK?  Apparently, some idiot introduced them here back in the day, and now there is a well-established, wild, native population to poop on everything.  Go figure.

That was my Bank Holiday Monday.  I wish every Monday could be like that.  :-)

An unexpectedly pleasant Saturday (May 2)

I don't know if I'll ever get around to filling in the gaps between December and May, but here's what happened yesterday...

As usual, my stupid internal alarm clock woke me up at 6:30 AM, regardless of it being both a Saturday and a long bank holiday weekend.  And as usual, I refused to accept being awake so early, so I laid in bed playing with my phone and re-reading the 3rd Outlander book, Voyager, until after 10:00 AM.  I'm obsessed with Outlander, and finishing all 8 books, re-reading 3 of them so far, and watching each STARZ TV episode 3+ times does not assuage the obsession.  The morning was cold, rainy and dreary anyways, so motivation to get out of bed was low.  My continuously rumbling stomach is what finally made me get up and go downstairs to make breakfast.  After treating myself to some eggs, streaky bacon, coffee and a jam-covered crumpet (I normally just have a yogurt or something quick and easy for breakfast), I took care of a couple of financial things and bills, which gave me an excuse to continue being lazy in my pajamas for a few more hours.  If I hadn't made plans with a friend, I honestly might not have showered or gotten out of my PJs at all.  However, plans I had made, so after 1:00 PM, I finally hopped in the shower, made myself presentable, grabbed my umbrella and caught the 2:31 PM tram into the city centre.

I knew when I rented this house that it was close to the train station, but living here, I have truly come to love the proximity, as much as I loved living walking distance to the MARTA station when I lived in Decatur, Georgia.  From locking my door to getting on the tram (including time to buy a ticket from the machine) takes me 8 minutes or 10 minutes maximum.  It is so convenient, especially since the trams run every 12 minutes, and an offpeak return fare is only £4.60.  I'm at Altrincham Station, and it's 11 stops or ~25 minutes to get to St. Peter's Square in the city centre.  So total trip time is 35 to 40 minutes, and I don't have to worry about traffic, parking, if my car will get broken into or stolen or (perhaps most importantly) how many pints I consume.  :-)

St. Peter's Square is currently the scene of a small homeless protest, which involves perhaps a dozen people camping out together.  They were outside the city hall, were forced to move, and have now set up camp outside the public library.  I've been searching my heart to try to find any drop of interest or compassion for the "plight" of these people who feel they are not being given enough that was taken out of the pockets of working people, and I keep coming up dry.

This afternoon I was meeting up with a new friend, M, whom I met a couple of weeks ago chatting in a pub.  I had to laugh at myself with my big umbrella compared to him, a proper Manc with no umbrella and just a tweed newsboy cap on his head.  The subject of the homeless protest was best not discussed, since he is an openly avowed socialist who works for the government in the delivery of social services, and I think it's safe to say our opinions on the matter diverge.

A potentially less contentious subject was that morning's Royal Birth.  I do not have strong opinions one way or the other on the British monarchy, my own ancestors having successfully rebelled and thrown off the chains of kings 232 years ago.  I enjoy some casual Royal Family watching (it's quaint), and I think it would be difficult for anyone not to find joy in the safe birth of a healthy baby.  My friend unsurprisingly is anti-Royal (quite right, as any good socialist should be!), but even he could find no fault with celebrating the birth of the princess.  And, as I pointed out, it's not like people are still living under King George III, that "old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King".  The Royal Family today are largely symbolic, and I'm not sure they do (or can do) any real harm.

Ironically, we were having this discussion just around the corner from the site of the infamous Peterloo Massacre, the event which inspired Percy Bysshe Shelly's famous poem, England in 1819.

There's some pretty amazing history in Manchester.

St. Peter's and politics behind us, we started at the Manchester Art Gallery, a smallish but quite varied and interesting public art museum just off St. Peter's Square.  Some of the 18th and 19th c English art and portraiture was average, but in all fairness, anything would seem average after the mind-blowing Late Rembrandt exhibit I had just seen at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam last Monday.  Their special East Asian Craft and Design exhibit of Japanese and Chinese arts and crafts was very well done and fascinating.  They also had a wonderful special exhibit called "Emily Allchurch In the Footsteps of a Master", juxtaposing 19th c. Japanese printmaker Utagawa Hiroshige landscape prints with modern interpretations of those scenes, made by Emily Allchurch using digital photograph collages and backlit in lightboxes.  Truly beautiful work.

My favorite experience, though, was seeing two famous paintings that I know very well and recognized immediately, although I had had no idea that they were located in the Manchester museum.  Stumbling across them so unexpectedly and then being able to enjoy them in person instead of just a printed photograph on a page in a book was a thrill.  The first one was John William Waterhouse's Hylas and the Nymphs.

Then I turned and looked across the room right into the sad, depressed eyes of Auguste Charles Mengin's Sappho, getting ready to jump off a cliff.  She has graced the cover of a recent novel; some of my friends may recognize her.

I enjoyed the entire museum, but seeing those two paintings alone made the entire excursion worthwhile to me.

After the museum, we walked over to Brewdog Manchester for a pint.  The place was doing lively business, but we were able to find two stools sharing a table with some other people.  One of their guest taps was a Stone Ruination IPA, which M tried, so I told him all about the beautiful Stone brewery in San Diego, California, which I visited a number of years ago.  It's wonderful to see some American craft breweries becoming more prevalent and popular over here in the UK.  M had suggested maybe trying out a stand-up comedy club for our next activity.  Along the way, we stopped at a lovely heritage pub, The Briton's Protection, for a quick half-pint before proceeding to The Comedy Store at the Deansgate Locks for their 7:00 PM show.

I actually love stand-up comedy, and I think it has been more than 4 years since I've been to a show.  It was a blast.  There were 4 acts - an American from San Francisco, a Canadian, and then two local Englishmen.  They all got some belly-laughs out of me, but the last two were definitely the best overall.  I just about died when the last comedian (a local chap from Warrington) joked about Americans trying to adjust to the English attitude towards customer service.  Then he role-played an American customer service interaction as it would play out in the USA versus how things would go with a Brit in the UK.  I laughed so hard I could hardly breathe, because it was spot-on.  Customer service over here generally does not exist, and where it does exist, it is barely a notch above "sod off".  Even though my previous travel experiences had somewhat prepared me for the lack of customer service that is common in European countries, it has still been a big adjustment, and seeing his take on it was hysterical.

The show ended at 9:00 PM, and with a 40 minute journey home, I figured it was time to call it an evening.  Besides, things in the Deansgate area were already starting to turn into a stereotypical Saturday night out in a northern England city centre, which means that the hard core party was well-underway, and the shit storm of drunken debauchery with public pissing and vomiting was imminent.  I've seen it in Leeds; I've seen it in Liverpool; I am disinclined to witness it in Manchester, too, not unless someday it is actually my own hen party (unlikely in any event).

I bid farewell to my friend and hopped on the tram at the Deansgate Metrolink station just up the stairs there for the short ride home.  It was a good night.

Escape from Mordor [or, a day-trip to Huddersfield] (Saturday, Dec 13)

After a wonderful Friday (Dec 12) evening together, Jenn and I agreed to meet up again the next day, Saturday (December 13).  Pete would be spending more time with his family, and Jenn still had some shopping she wanted to do.  This seemed like the perfect opportunity for me to get away from Manchester for a little bit, where it had rained every day for the last 10 days in a row.

The rain in Manchester is something the natives ignore and the non-natives alternately bitch or joke about non-stop.  Since I'm a non-native, I can't ignore it, and I'm not yet at the point where I can joke about it.  Everyone told me I arrived in England at the worst possible time of the year in terms of weather, and I believe them.  Cold, dreary and wet every day is just depressing.

There's this funny article I found online called, How often does it rain in Manchester?  It has some great advice, such as "if you're ever lost here and need directions, don't ask anyone with an umbrella ... Seek out those resembling a drowned rat. Proper Manc! They'll know their way around."  Which is so true!  But the best line is this -- "Drive 20 miles in any direction away from Manchester. Check the rear-view mirror. It looks like Mordor."  Yes, Mordor, Tolkien's Land of Shadow, bounded by mountains.  This is a surprisingly apt analogy.

Manchester is surrounded by the West Pennine Moors to the northwest, the South Pennines to the north and north east, and the Peak District to the east and southeast.  Weather patterns and moisture come in from the ocean, across the Cheshire plain, get stopped by the hills and peaks, and concentrate over Manchester.  Pete explained that all of that rain and humidity is what made the area ideal for the textile industry.  Wool and cotton threads didn't break as often when being worked in a damp environment.  Fascinating history, but since I'm not weaving textiles, I'm not very appreciative of the unique benefits of this climate.

I mention all of this as background to my drive up to Huddersfield on Saturday.  Pete is originally from Brighouse, and Hudderfield is the closest major city with a nice hotel in between Manchester (for the airport) and Brighouse (for the family), so that's where they were staying.  I woke up in Manchester to pea-soup fog.  This was my Facebook status:

The fog this morning on the Quays is as thick as pea soup. Old Trafford and the studio buildings across the way have disappeared; all I can see are the illuminated "itv" letters. The canal waters are as still as glass, except where the surface has been disturbed by the flapping wings of the seagulls over head. A cold and dreary Saturday morning indeed.

In terms of Middle Earth, think of the Dead Marshes.  There probably *are* a lot of dead bodies at the bottom of the Manchester canals....  Anyways, I got up, dressed and ready, and headed out on the road.  The drive winds northeast up the M62 and takes about 45 minutes to an hour, depending on traffic and weather.

As you get out of Manchester towards the north east, you start climbing from ~38 metres above sea level up the South Pennines, heading over "The Tops", reaching a height of 372 m above sea level at Windy Hill, which is the highest point of any motorway in England.  I know this because they put up a sign.  I marked it on the map above with a black arrow.

The immediate change in weather was stunning.  One second I was surrounded by deadly fog, icy mist and patches of snow in The Tops, and the next second I burst free into a bright, clear blue sky and abundant sunshine.  I had spotted a large stone marker bearing the white rose of York, welcoming me to Yorkshire.  I think I heard choirs of angels singing.  I checked my rear-view mirror and could see Mordor behind me.  Seeing the traditional white rose of York also gave this history buff a little thrill.

The countryside with the rolling moorlands and farms was beautiful.  In some ways it reminded me of Montana, if you ever saw 200+ year old stone manor houses dotting the Montana landscape, while driving on the wrong side of the road.  My mood brightened commensurate with the sunshine.

An accident near the Huddersfield junction forced me to do a little creative re-routing with the aid of my GPS, but I made it to Pete and Jenn's hotel just a few minutes late.  I gave Jenn her present which I had found at the Altrincham Christmas Market, a handmade metal headband with beads and decoration, sort of like a tiara (which fit Jenn's style perfectly).  Pete headed off for his family time, and Jenn and I headed to the city centre for our Huddersfield shopping adventure.

Since it was a market day, traffic was busy and parking was difficult.  I took this picture to try to capture the image of the railroad viaduct (very cool structure), but it also accurately shows how much of a clusterf*** the traffic was.

I dropped Jenn off at the Laura Ashley store and finally found a street parking spot.  I tend to think of Laura Ashley as the overly flowery clothing we wore back in the early 1990's, but it's actually a very nice home and furnishings collection.  I wasn't planning to buy anything, but I ended up finding these pretty little faceted crystal tea light holders (on sale!) that I knew would fit perfectly on my electric fireplace.  Here they are, now in place:

Afterwards, we walked over to the Huddersfield Open Market to explore their Saturday Second-Hand market.  The quarter surrounding the market appeared to be filled with discount and used furniture stores; it looked like the perfect place to pick up a deal on home goods.  In general the city centre has some beautiful architecture to admire.  The market building itself is a Grade 2 listed structure, with a restored Victorian cast iron and glass roof canopy.  To be honest, I had low expectations, but it was really nice.

They also do an antiques market one Sunday a month that I would love to check out sometime.

Jenn and I had a ball chatting and browsing up and down the aisles.  My rental house doesn't have many light fixtures, in two places, it's bare light bulbs hanging down from the ceiling, and I found a lovely light shade for only £10.  It was brand new with the original box; the seller said someone likely had bought it, didn't use it and couldn't be bothered to return it.  I've seen the same shade for sale at home stores since for £20 and more, so I know I got a good deal.  Here it is now hanging at home.  That's £10 well-spent!

Jenn found a good deal on a set of new luggage.  The luggage was necessary because she had done so much shopping, she needed more bags to transport everything home.  :-)  While she was taking care of that purchase, I enjoyed watching a butcher hawk his meat over a loudspeaker.  Now this was something I had never seen before.  I've been to markets before, but he was taking selling to a new level of showmanship.  I took a short video, because he had an incredible accent, and I just loved watching him in action.  Be sure to watch the video where you can turn up the sound to appreciate the accent.

Professor Henry Higgins would be in ecstasy.

After our successful, fun shopping excursion, we headed over to the Yorkshire Rose for lunch.  We really came for dessert, but we had to eat some lunch first.  I don't remember the main meal, but I'm sure it was tasty.  We are all about the dessert -- Jam Roly Poly, and no, there was NO sharing.  There is no "we" in Jam Roly Poly.  Their version was a yellow cake (technically, I guess, a suet pudding) rolled with raspberry jam, cooked and served warm with custard.  Delicious comfort food.

Unfortunately, I did eventually have to return Jenn to her husband.  :-(  We made a swing through Costa Coffee and then met back up with Pete at a Homebase store that was going out of business.  We didn't find any great deals, but I did pick up a metric tape measure.  Back at their hotel there were lots of big hugs good-bye, and then I started the sad drive back to Land of Shadow and endless rain.

Footnote:

While googling stuff related to driving over the Pennines, I stumbled across this wonderful blog post about The Stanza Stones, poems by Simon Armitage carved into stones across the area.  If you have extra time, I recommend a read.  Or you can buy the book.  The ode to RAIN seems especially appropriate for me.  It starts:

Be glad of these freshwater tears,
Each pearled droplet some salty old sea-bullet
Air-lifted out of the waves, then laundered and sieved, recast as a soft bead and returned.

Pete & Jenn! (Dec 12)

I've only been living in England for 36 days, and I'm already 27 days behind on blogging.  Whoops.  I suck.  Anyways, I last left off on a meltdown night on Thursday, December 11 and general enjoyment of Christmas merriment at work.

Friday morning (Dec 12) I woke up with a raging headache, which could have been from stress, upset and grinding my teeth or possibly from the bottle of wine I'd downed the night before.  I decided I needed a "mental health day", sent off an email to work that I was home sick, popped ibuprofen and went back to bed for a few more hours.

Now here's some backstory -- for anyone who doesn't know -- I have a very dear friend I met back in 2007 whilst living in Pittsburgh, Pete, who is originally from Brighouse, West Yorkshire.  That's about 45 to 60 minutes northeast of Manchester.  Pete and I first met at a beer festival (of course).  Back in 2011, Pete married one of my best friends in Pittsburgh, Jenn.  They now live in the metropolitan Washington DC area.  They don't make it back to England very often, but unfortunately, there had been a death in Pete's family.  So even though it was as a result of a very sad occasion, lucky for me, it meant that two great friends were an hour away just when I needed them the most.

Friday afternoon, they were driving in to Manchester to do some Christmas and other shopping at the intu Trafford Centre Shopping Centre, which is located 15 minutes away from my temporary apartment.  The Trafford Centre is the largest shopping centre in the United Kingdom by retail size, and it's one of the largest in Europe overall.  I think in terms of what is has under one continuous roof, it is the largest in Europe.  Regardless, it's ENORMOUS.  So after I had had my good sleep and done a little bit of work remotely, I showered and headed over to meet up with my friends.

Anyone who knows me well knows that as a general rule, I do not like "shopping".  I prefer to go in with a plan for exactly what I need, strike quickly and get out as fast as I can.  Well, I don't know if it was my awe at the spectacular centre or just the joy of spending time with my friends, but all we did was browse and shop, and I had a ball.  With the distance between DC and Atlanta, it had been a while since we'd seen each other, and it was wonderful to be able to catch up.  I stepped into a John Lewis department store for the first time and loved it.  It might have been that we saw a display for Monty, the adorable John Lewis Christmas advertisement penguin.  Monty made me very happy.

(Pete even got in on the action on this photo)

If you don't know who is Monty, watch this video:

After a visit to a bookstore, Jenn bought me a book she said I had to read.  It's a history book, but she said it was laugh-out-loud funny, too.  Right up my alley.  I've started reading it, and so far, it's awesome.  My college friend, Katie, introduced me in November to Hardcore History podcasts by Dan Carlin, and the style of this particular book reminds me a little bit of Carlin's style.  Informative but also cheeky and provocative.  Listen to Carlin's "The What-Ifs Of 1066" and then read Clarke's Chapter 1, "When Is a Frenchman Not a Frenchman?" for an idea of what I'm talking about.  And BTW, THANK YOU, Jenn, for my awesome gift.  :-)

Jenn and I enjoyed commiserating about British people's unwillingness to choose one side of the sidewalk or staircase to walk down.  This is one thing that constantly drives me crazy here.  In most parts of the world, we drive on the right and we walk on the right.  We pass each other on our left sides whether we are driving or walking.  Consistent and reliable.  Here in the UK, people drive on the left, but they walk wherever the hell they feel like walking.  There is absolutely no pattern for pedestrian traffic flow.  It drives me bonkers.  Look, I honestly don't care if it's to the right or to the left.  Just freaking pick ONE, and make all our lives easier!

I was walking along a sidewalk once, to the right, and an older man walking at me head-on rebuked me that it was "nicer" if I walked on the left.  I politely said "thank you" and obligingly moved over to the left.  Not 10 seconds later, a different person came at my head-on from the left.  That person wasn't blinking, so I had to switch back over to the right.  Walking around here is a non-stop game of pedestrian chicken.

The three of us were in a toy store at the mall, up on the first floor (that's the second floor for the Americans) and about to descend to the ground floor (that's the first floor for the Americans).  The toy store had posted a very large, red "polite notice" sign with large, white letters asking patrons please to walk to the left.  Jenn started to take a step down on the left and was brought up short by a group of shoppers stubbornly ascending on their right, straight at her.  I busted out laughing; the irony was so perfect, and Jenn got that annoyed look on her face she gets when dealing with other people (I know, because I get the exact same look on my face).

English types -- if you do just one thing for peace in our time, please pick a side and standardize your pedestrian traffic flow.

After engaging in naked consumerism, we headed in to the Great Hall to find dinner.  Even the Trafford's food court is massive and beautifully ostentatious.

The thought that came to mind is that the Trafford Centre is like the Las Vegas of shopping malls.  The decor is over the top, sort of like walking in to Caesar's Palace or the Venetian.

We ate dinner at an Italian restaurant, Carluccio's.  Tasty food and they had a wonderful Italian red wine on special by the glass.  After dinner, we did just a little bit more shopping, and then it was time to call it a night, since Pete and Jenn had a longer drive over the mountains back to their hotel.  Here's one last look at the mall:

I went back to my apartment tired but happier than I had been all week.

Celebrating the "Holidays" in England

One thing I forgot to mention in between all of my moaning and complaining in my last post was how wonderful and friendly my new co-workers are.  I also forgot to mention that they don't celebrate the holidays here.  They celebrate CHRISTMAS.

I grew up in a very diverse area, at least in terms of ethnicity and religion.  And I went to a very diverse and also a very politically-correct university.  Until I moved south of the Mason-Dixon line, I was used to generic Happy Holidays and Seasons Greetings that wouldn't potentially offend people or make them uncomfortable if they weren't Christian.  All celebrations and decorations were carefully crafted to be inclusive and respectful of all world religions.  Living in the south was the first time things bent more strongly towards Christmas, but even at work, people were always sure to include the other holidays, too.  From what I've seen here in the north of England, that is not the case at all.  There is no mention of any other religion or any other holiday.  I haven't seen a single menorah or any symbols of Kwanzaa.  It's the Christmas season, and everyone is celebrating Christmas.

I'm not passing any judgement on right or wrong, worse or better; it's just a difference, and to me, it's a very noticeable one.  I got to thinking about it, and pondering on it, so I looked up some demographics.  The area where my plant is located is ~96% white British.  As far as I can tell, with a few Welsh exceptions, just about everyone is English.  In the area, 75% identify themselves as Christian, and 19% claim no religion, but it's probably a safe bet that most of the No Religion people were raised with Christian traditions even if they don't "practice" today.  Representation of any other religion is negligible.  More people refuse to answer the question than identify themselves as any other religion.  When you think about how relatively homogeneous everyone is, having everyone celebrate Christmas together makes a lot more sense.

Everyone in the office area where I work collaborates to put up a ton of fun Christmas decorations.  It makes the office area look wonderfully festive.  Of course, there's the enormous stash of goodies and sweets that everyone shares.  Whenever you're craving sugar, there is some kind of chocolate or a mince tart to be had.  I've also been introduced to Mr. Kipling's exceedingly good treats.  Mr Kipling seems to be sort of like a British version of Little Debbie snack cakes, only much, much better.

One thing I was not prepared for was the giving of Christmas cards to each other.  My co-workers kindly included me in their Christmas card giving, even though I was brand new.  This practice caught me by surprise, because I don't think I've experienced that kind of card giving since we used to hand out Valentines to classmates back in secondary school.  I was caught flat-footed by receiving cards, but a little birdie told me that a charitable donation was a socially acceptable alternative, so I made a Christmas donation to the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA) on behalf of my team members, since we are all animal lovers.

Each department or team also gets to have its own special Christmas Dinner together in the canteen.  The canteen staff pull out all the stops to do a full 4-course turkey dinner, served at the table, complete with Christmas Crackers to share.  My new co-workers had thoughtfully made sure to include me in the headcount for our team, so I was able to join in the fun.  I failed at pulling the cracker properly, so our cracker didn't make a snap, but I won the side that had the little toy prize in it, and I was a good sport about putting the paper crown on my head.

Since I work in the Procurement/Supply Chain department, many of the suppliers send in Christmas gifts.  All of the gifts are shared and doled out fairly so that everyone gets something.  I got a handy utility knife, screwdriver, measuring stick (all with a supplier's logo on it) and a nice bottle of red wine, a 2009 Casa Luis Reserva Cariñena from Spain.

The people that I work with have all been nicer to and more generous with me than I deserve, and celebrating the run up to Christmas with them has really helped balance out some of the other, stressful stuff.

(My desk with Christmas cards from new co-workers and a tin of delicious gingersnap wafers from a supplier.)

By the way, I shared this video with my co-workers explaining British Christmas to Americans.  They all laughed and agreed that it was totally accurate, even down to serving Brussels sprouts with Christmas dinner even though most everyone hates them.

A week of ups and downs, but mostly downs (Dec 8-11)

(I should preface this by clarifying that I figured out over the Dec 12-14 weekend that some of my perhaps hyper-emotional reactions to the happenings of the week were undoubtedly due to a certain time of the month for women when hormones tend to produce hyper-emotional reactions.  With everything else going on, I had lost track of time and was unaware of what was happening until the evidence was at hand.)

My first full week at my new job was less than ideal.  My position has been needed for months, and now that I'm on board, it feels like everybody needs something and like I'm being pulled in a million directions.  Everyone is really nice, but the work stress is piling up quickly.

I discovered that the location of my temporary apartment is terrible for the commute to Runcorn.  Under normal conditions, the commute should be ~30 miles and 35 minutes.  During Rush Hour, it takes over an hour due to traffic and road construction.  Add in the time it takes to walk to the parking garage, pay for the parking and exit the structure, and it's up to an hour and a half.  It doesn't really matter when I leave either.  I tried leaving at 6:45 am one day, and it still took forever.  Starting out your day wishing you had a flash of whiskey in your purse to take a nip by the time you get to the plant is not a good start to a work day.

The best part of Monday (8 Dec) was trying Booth's market, which is walking distance from my temporary apartment.  It's an upscale food market with regular groceries but also wine, craft beer, prepared foods, etc.  I was happy to find a ready-to-cook meal of bacon loin encrusted with panko crumbs, mustard and other yummy goodness.  Yes, I said bacon loin.  It was basically a really thick slice of that meaty, salted pork cut the English call bacon.  Oh my goodness, it was SO delicious.  That combined with some quickly cooked green beans and broccolini, and I had a meal in 30 minutes.  Booth's is one of the best parts about the temporary apartment.  Being able to pop in after work and then walk back to my apartment with the groceries is wonderful.

Tuesday (9 Dec) I had a really unpleasant day.  I started the day by trying (unsuccessfully) to open a bank account.  Being an American with no National Insurance number, no credit history in the country, renting a property and no telephone number doesn't make things easy.  At least we figured out exactly what documentation would be acceptable to be allowed to open an account, and I was able to make an appointment for Thursday afternoon.  At the plant, when I finally got to sit down with my Human Resources Manager to cover payroll and benefits stuff, everything was confusing and all messed up.  They hadn't been able to set up my payroll, so they estimated everything for December in order to try to ensure I got paid, and they estimated a tax withholding of 52%, which had me struggling to maintain some semblance of composure.  I then got handed a large packet of health insurance stuff, which really set me off, because it had all of this information about monthly costs and out-of-pocket expenses that I was not expecting.  So Tuesday night was my first meltdown of the week.  Fortunately, the meltdown did not start until my drive home, so at least I was able to lose it in private.

Wednesday (10 Dec) was a less stressful day.  My HR Manager gave me the "UK Health Care for Dummies" explanation of my different health care options, which made me feel better.  I can stay 100% under the National Health System plan and do nothing else, and that is all covered by the taxes.  Because of my income level, I will have to pay for my prescriptions, but she said that would normally be £8.  Also, the NHS does not cover vision or dental, so that will all be out of pocket.  I also have the option to accept a private health care plan (SimplyHealth) which is only available to employees of a certain job band or higher, and that is paid for entirely by the company, but it is considered a taxable benefit of £701/year.  That is an alternative to the NHS if I don't like the wait times.  So for major emergencies, I'd use the NHS, but if I needed say a hip replacement (anything considered a non-urgent treatment), I might choose to go through SimplyHealth private insurance in order to have that done faster.  The last option is the health cash plan, which is offered to all employees regardless of job band.  That's the one that has a monthly payroll deduction, and it reimburses you for out-of-pocket medical expenses, including vision and dental.  So if I want any kind of vision or dental "coverage", I'd need to sign up for the health cash plan.  What I need to figure out is if I'll save money with the cash plan (or maybe just have an easier time budgeting) versus just paying for vision and dental costs out of pocket.

The best thing about the health plan options is that there is no annual enrollment period and I don't have to wait to have a "qualifying life event" to sign up for them.  I can try just the NHS for starters and add the other plans on whenever I want to.  I figure I will go ahead and take the SimplyHealth private care option no matter what, because that doesn't cost me anything out of pocket.  I can decide later on whether or not the cash plan with a monthly cost makes sense for me or not.

The big success for Thursday (11 Dec) was finally being able to open up a bank account.  I think a rectal exam would have been easier than what I had to go through to get a basic bank account with a £500 line of credit.  I mean, it got personal.  But in the end, I got the account, and I cannot fault the banker who helped me.  He was super-nice, friendly and great about explaining everything.  In the end, I had to kick myself, because he said if I had just opened up an account with HSBC America before moving over, there would have been no problem whatsoever in transferring my account.  Well, I wish I'd know that *before* I came over!

I made a shopping stop at Tesco before driving back up to Salford.  Shopping continues to be a learning experience.  This time, I needed to pick up some supplies to make coffee in the apartment.  "Half-and-Half" as we know it in the US doesn't appear to exist here.  Instead, I had to choose from a dizzying array of creams -- single cream, double cream, whipped cream, clotted cream, etc.  I finally settled on single cream as being the closest approximation to what I typically would use for coffee in the US, but it is much thicker and creamier than Half-and-Half.  It also has to be used up within 3 days of opening.

My Quays apartment doesn't have a coffee maker, just a kettle.  So I decided to go with instant coffee, since I haven't figured out about buying a coffee maker yet.  Fortunately, I found a 24 serving tin of Starbucks Via coffee.  I've actually been so happy with it, I might not buy a coffee maker at all.  Maybe I'll just abide with an electric kettle and instant.  At 220 volts, those electric kettles boil water faster than you can prep the mug, and the water is so hot, you have to wait a few minutes before you can add the cream and take a sip.

RE: the electricity.  At first, I was finding the switches on all of the plugs annoying.  Not only do you need to ensure something is plugged in, you need to ensure the socket is switched on.  However, thinking about it, I realize that with 220-240 volts, having a live, empty socket is a real hazard.  The on/off switches make a lot more sense when you think about the safety aspect that way.

(Which plug is on, and which one is off?  At least the ones at our plant have a red color bar on them to let you know when they are hot.)

Thursday night I made my first attempt at doing some laundry.  It's a combination washer/dryer, and the controls were as comprehensible to me as hieroglyphics.

I finally figured out the washer part on my own, but I needed to call the lady at the front desk to come up to help me with the dryer part.  The dryer took FOREVER, too.  Maybe I just haven't figured it out right yet, but I had to do multiple drying cycles to finally get everything dry.

The laundry machine was an exercise in frustration for me.  At least Mona seemed to enjoy it.  Kitty TV.

Thursday night ended with my getting an unhelpful email from Deloitte about my tax situation which precipitated another meltdown.  When I worked in Mexico, Deloitte was wonderful, but in this case, they have been worse than worthless.  They provided me with bad information and then told me that I should have know the information they sent me was incorrect.  When I asked some questions, I was told they needed to get permission from my company before they could respond to me.  I ended Thursday night having to do my own estimated tax and payroll calculations to try to make sure my December paycheck was going to be somewhat close to accurate as opposed to the 52% withholding they had set up.  Then I finished off an open bottle of wine, because I was upset.  I went to bed miserable, frustrated and angry.

Finally, a (temporary) home - Sunday, December 7

One week and I'm already behind with this whole blogging thing.  Go figure.  :-)

Sunday, December 7 was the day I was finally able to move into my temporary apartment with Mona.  Housing is in high demand in the northwest, and wanting to have my kitty with me eliminated a lot of potential serviced apartments from consideration.  The ONLY place available was in the Salford Quays to the west of Manchester City Centre, and that place was only available beginning on Sunday.  Hence, the first four nights in a hotel with Mona's first three nights at the rental house.

I was pleased to discover that the Travelodge had a 12:00 pm check-out time, and I couldn't check in to the Salford Quays apartment until 3:00 pm, so I took my time in the morning.  I ate a full, hot breakfast and did some emails and other computer things.

In general, I was really pleased with the Travelodge, and it was a very pleasant surprise.  I'd never stayed in one before, and I had no idea what to expect, but for a budget hotel, it was the BEST budget hotel I think I've ever stayed in.  The staff were all really friendly and helpful.  The room was clean, and the mattress was comfortable.  And the food and bar on the lobby level were convenient.  All in all, a good stay, and I would definitely recommend that hotel for anyone coming in to town.

Sunday looked like it was shaping up to be a nice day, in terms of the weather.  It was cold and clear, and I could see all the way to the Beetham Tower in downtown Manchester (the tallest building in Great Britain outside of London).

After check-out at noon, I headed over to the Oakfield house to load up Mona's things and to kill some time until I could check in at the other place.  Since I had time to kill, I decided to walk over to the 24-hour Tesco store to buy some groceries.  The Tesco is about a 10 minute walk from my house, so I think I will probably be shopping there often.  I picked up some pre-made food and a couple of other staples.  I didn't buy that much, but it still took about an hour, just because I was learning the layout of a new store.  The other thing is that a lot of the brands are different, so it takes longer to decide what to buy.

Shopping is something you never think about when you do it all the time at your one preferred store and you know your preferred brands.  British store layouts are totally different, and some things don't make sense to me at all - like eggs that aren't refrigerated.  Finding new brands is difficult, too.  For example, I've always used Crest toothpaste.  For my entire life, I've used Crest, but Crest doesn't appear to exist over here.  So then you stand in the toothpaste aisle, staring at the options for 10 minutes, trying to decide what you want to try for a new toothpaste and feeling like something is wrong when you pick Colgate.  I know it sounds like the littlest thing, but it throws you for a loop every step of the way.

Pete B. had told me that I would have to try Vimto, a type of mixed berry squash (predominantly black currant) that is locally made in Warrington, so of course, I picked up a bottle of Vimto.  The toad mascot is kind of weird, but when you mix this stuff up with sparkling water, it's actually quite good.  And yes, I did try it hot, too.

Okay, so you saw the photos of what the weather was like in the morning, right?  Walking home from the Tesco shopping excursion, it started to sleet.  SLEET.  I was prepared for rain, but I was not ready to deal with being pelted with sleet.  Bullshit weather.  The sleet stopped and the sun came back out by the time I got home.

It was time to go, so I loaded the Mona Kitty into the car, and we headed up Manchester Road (A56) towards The Quays.  The Quays originally were the Salford docks of the mighty Manchester Ship Canal, which allowed ocean ships to travel up the River Mersey from Liverpool to the manufacturing plants and warehouses in Manchester.  These docks were the heart of the Port of Manchester and the industry it supported from 1894 until it finally closed down in 1982.  After the docks closed, the entire area became derelict.  It was finally revitalized as part of a huge live/work/play development plan that today includes BBC studios.  My temporary apartment is part of The Heart apartment/condominium building in the MediaCity UK part of The Quays.

I checked in just shortly after 3:00 pm, but the sun sets early here, so the photos are already showing twilight (and the ever-present rain in the area).  My building looks out on the Imperial War Museum North, the ITV Coronation Street production centre, and Manchester United's Old Trafford stadium.

I've read that Coronation Street is the world’s longest running continuing drama, and apparently the studios and the set tour are a Big Deal, but I have to admit I don't know anything about it, so it all means nothing to me.  I gather it's a soap opera?

The apartment is okay.  It's clean and has a nice, modern decor.  The layout is weird, though, and thank goodness I insisted upon a 2-bedroom unit, because it's cramped.  The 2nd "bedroom" is currently being used as my walk-in wardrobe, because of course, there are no closets or dressers in the main bedroom.  The mattress is TERRIBLE, and I actually keep meaning to write to the management to tell them that it should be criminal to advertise such a lumpy rack as a real bed.  I'm right next to the elevator, so I can hear elevator noises.  The parking is also a 10 minute ordeal involving an outdoor walk and having to pay.  People actually own and live here in this building, and I can't imagine why.  At least I'm only here through the end of the month.

The most important thing was to be able to be together with Mona after two weeks apart.  She settled right in and seemed more comfortable than I.  :-)