Tag Archives: children

Battle for Britain.

Ava’s transformation is almost complete. All she needs is a backwards cap and a Ritalin prescription, and she’s a full-blown American child.

At home we speak British English to her – you know, the proper version of the language – but at school she’s mixing it with the natives. So, one day at a time, that lovely British accent of hers gets ground down, sprinkled with strange sounds, and mashed together into some kind of American language burger.

Continue reading Battle for Britain.

Advertisements

Want fries with that billboard?

FullSizeRender 2
I bet Wendy’s are delighted with that placement.

What it boils down to.

This is our kettle. God it’s awful.

Just look at it.

With its stuck-up spout and pretentious double handle that’s too hot to lift without an oven glove.

It doesn’t even have a measure on the side to let you know how many cups it will make. It just arrogantly expects you to know by sight.

And it’s annoying. So annoying. When it’s done, it’s just dying to let you know with a high-pitched whistle. “Oooooh look at me everybody, I’ve boiled the water AND I’m shrieking”. Frickin’ show-off.

Continue reading What it boils down to.

December.

See the pictures here

16 things we’ve learned about life in the US.

Today is exactly 6 months since we left the UK.

In that time, Alex has taken up running, Daisy has tantrummed in some of the biggest public spaces in Northern California, and Ava has turned into a walking, talking all-American kid. Me? The main change I’ve noticed is that I wear white socks more than I used to, without worrying about my street cred.

Here’s the 16 things we’ve learned since we got here…  Continue reading 16 things we’ve learned about life in the US.

A view of November.

See the pictures here

Trick or treat is not a rhetorical question.

Hallowe’en is a big deal out here. Like, Christmas big.

In the weeks leading up to the 31st, you can’t miss it. House decorations, advertising, grocery stores, even church signs… it’s bloody everywhere. They don’t do anything half-arsed in the US, but I do – and having left it to the last-minute to get a costume for a Hallowe’en party, I went into a nearby pop-up shop.

Continue reading Trick or treat is not a rhetorical question.

Thank you, Mr President.

Everyone has a unique way of making their displeasure known. I call it the “Pissed Off Power Play”, or POPP for short.

Some shout out an assortment of four-letter words, others cry hysterically, some even resort to physical violence. A particular ex-girlfriend of mine did all three. I’m pretty sure she won’t be reading this. But if she is, I’ll know it soon enough through the sharp stabbing pains I’ll feel in my back, caused by the voodoo doll she keeps of me. Let’s just say our decision to part wasn’t exactly a joint one.

Continue reading Thank you, Mr President.