Day 22: If I Go Missing, Just Check the Line at the Post Office + The Man Who Tucks His Pants in His Socks

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source site As I began to write tonight, the first thought I had was for you to “close your eyes, and imagine that you’re in a line that never ends…”

follow Well, that doesn’t work in written post, now does it?

Buy Valium Online Without Prescription So my SECOND thought was to begin with, “Imagine, if you will, that you’re standing in a line that never ends….”  Are you with me now?  Standing in that line that never ends?  Perhaps – – oh, let just say for the fun of it – – that you’re in a Post Office line in the United Kingdom.

You begin to get very sleepy…lulled to the point of your eyes going in and out of focus, fighting the urge to doze off as you hear a very British, very proper and very robotic voice say, “Cashier number Two, pleezzz.”

Lorazepam Purchase Online Pause.  Head begins to nod again.  Pause.  Look around and begin to take note of what everyone is wearing, what everyone is holding to take to the window and mail, and what everyone else is doing to manage their own dozing-off behaviors.

watch More time lapses.  More time.  “Cashier number Four, pleezzz.”

Fifteen minutes later your head jerks up from nodding off to sleep.  You look around sheepishly and think, “Oh well, I may have made a fool of myself but at least it’s probably my turn,” only to focus again on those standing in line with you and realizing that you haven’t moved an inch.

follow The story I have begun to set before you is not imagined.  Only the characters have changed.  Okay, no they haven’t.  It’s me – and thirty or forty other people in the Post Office line.  Waiting.

Buy Tramadol 100 Mg Online I’m not exactly feeling like Dorothy.  I mean, I’m not standing there in the Post Office, clicking my little New Balance beige tennis shoes together saying, “There’s no place like home…there’s no place like home….”  Rather, I think that each time I go to the Post Office my head is more filled with thoughts such as these:

enter 1.  Why is the “AVAILABLE 24 HOURS FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE!! Automatic teller machine always broken?”

2.  Why is it that people who don’t place importance on personal hygiene are the ones that seem to populate the Post Office lines?

3.  Why is it that we’re (the US) the country who came up with the phrase “going postal” and they’re (the UK) the ones with bullet proof glass between the service providers and the public?

4.  Why is it that when I have a package I’m sending to the US that weighs more than two kilos, that the service provider looks at me while shaking their head up and down (as if to make me nod in sync) say, “Well, you KNOW, if this package contained BOOKS (looks at me with wider eyes), then your PRICE would be GREATLY re-DUCED!”  Do they THINK I’m going to lie to the Post Office of the United Kingdom and risk the souvenir that I searched for over a three week period be confiscated?  Really?

These and other thoughts are what occupy my head whilst (Don’t you love that word? Whilst?) visiting the Post Office.

follow url But here’s a new thought I had today.  The UK Post Office literally forced me to just stop, look around, wait, and think.  And, for that – I was actually grateful.

And, when I turned and finally strolled out of the Post Office, I had given up my struggle to make the line move.  I had laid my stress of reading assignments aside for the moment.  And because I wasn’t preoccupied with these thoughts as I had previously been before entering the Post Office, I spied a man pushing his bicycle with his pants tucked into his dress socks.

Then – I giggled and smiled at the postal employee just past the exit because he was taking his SWEET TIME unloading the letters from the deposit box outside.

As I walked back to the college, the very proper British robotic voice played over in my head, this time talking (in my head – not out loud!) to those I walked by on the sidewalk: “Step aside and move out of the Way, pleez.”  “Guess it’s time for some Lunch, pleez.”  “How about Panini, pleez…”

And, to all my friends in the U.S.  “Have a very good Evening, pleez…”

** ** ** go to link Here’s a treat for you.  If you look through the middle of the crowd in this last picture, you’ll see the man with the balding spot.  Look down, and then see his pants tucked into his socks.  Hee hee hee!  Practical (for cycling) AND funny to look at! A two-fer!

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Day 21: Crop Circles, Stretch Pants (Eew!) & Getting “Knocked Up” is a Good Thing? Oh, and Hen Parties.

I thought today I would just write a short blurb about some of the things I see noted as cliches about the Brits in the U.S., some of the cultural observations I’ve made while here, and how sometimes phrases in the UK can mean something completely different in the States.

First, this past Friday I spied my first actual “Crop Circle.” It was a small one, but definitely in England nevertheless…the typical “sighting grounds.”:

And, as cool as I thought the crop circle was, I have formed a very strong opinion about something completely uncool: I HATE stretch pants.  And, unfortunately here in Oxford, they are prolific.  I see several pair on women of all sizes and shapes each time I leave the college and go into town.

Eww.

To further enhance my point, I did a quick internet search and found that Lindsay Lohan started wearing them again (I say https://youthmedispa.ca/emsculptneo/ again, because we-who-are-40plus all KNOW this is a fashion faux pas repeat) in fall of 2007.

Here’s my proof – CLICK HERE FOR PHOTO OF LI-LO + STRETCH PANTS

I would share pictures of those I’ve seen around here, but trust me…you don’t really want to see them.

However, if you must go against my emphatic fashion advice, then you can order your new stretch pants here, in a rainbow of colors, for only 4.58GBPs!!

Alright, enough poking fun at stretch pants and the unfortunate people who wear them.  I’ll just close with two brand new pieces of Great Britain information I’ve recently heard.

Evidently, if someone says to you that they’ll “knock you up at 6:30 a.m.” it means they’ll here wake you.

Here’s an example of someone announcing that they’re going to take a nap: “I’m going to have a lie-in, knock me up when you’re ready to go.”

Finally, I don’t know if it is England in general, or just perhaps because I tend to wax philosophically about gender equality and respect whenever I have the chance, but something really surprised me this past weekend. While in York, we spied approximately four or five groups of women on Saturday evening making their way down the street. What was interesting was that they were dressed up in brightly colored, conspicuous costumes or matching t-shirts with over-the-top make-up.

My distant cousin told me that they were “Hen Parties.” Well, immediately I think I got my own “feathers ruffled (smile)” because to me, “hen” or “cackling hen” is a derogatory term for women. He told me that they were like our bachelorette parties.

So – I guess that’s fine. But I just didn’t like the term “Hen” party. Here’s a picture borrowed from the internet to let you know how they look:

I don’t know.

I just don’t know if I could swallow the notion of one of my daughters having a Hen Party – – it feels sort of 1950s-cliche-women-are-ridiculous-and-the-weaker-sex-ish…

I guess I like to think of women as women, and not Hens. I will say, however, that when I found out about the custom I wanted to squawk. But then that’s the sound a hawk makes, not a hen, right?

Good night. I’ll WAKE myself up in the morning.

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Days 18, 19 & 20: Fight as Though You Were Defending the Very Gates of Paradise

Potatoes 20 different ways.
Mushy peas.
Beetroot.
Yorkshire pudding.

And…the pub.  These are the food and drink of the local yokels in England.  But more than any other meal, my friends kept asking, “Have you had the fish and chips?”

Well, I can finally answer “yes” to that question.  And it really was quite good.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday of this week were spent with distant relatives in Wakefield, England.  We climbed some castle ruins, spent time in “a pit” (a coal mine) at the National Coal Mining Museum, took a “War of the Roses” grand tour of York and the surrounding areas, and spent time in the pubs getting to know each other.

AND…we had fish and chips.  Yes, I love haddock.  Yes, I’ll eat them again.  And no, I can’t eat all the chips!

But should I ever have a friend come to England, one of the first things I’m sure I’ll ask them is…”Make sure and eat the fish and chips!”

And, with that comment I’m signing off.  I’ll fill in the gaps of the weekend, post a video I put to Celtic music and talk about the idiosyncracies of speaking two languages while both English in my next post.  For right now, however, it’s time to get back to the books.

Cheers…

P.S.  I had a pretend battle with some children on the Castle wall ruins in Wakefield.  They were Roman Soldiers and challenged me, and I couldn’t just back down now…could I?  I hurled a stone at their wall and took them down a notch, but in the end they killed me with a spear.  Below is a picture of me and the young soldiers atop the wall.

I saw a War of the Roses quote this weekend that really hit me.  It was, “Fight as though you were defending the very gates of Paradise.”  I think those girls were pretty darn close…touche’, young ladies, touche’! (See P.P.S. – late addendum, next day – after the jump)

P.P.S.

Here is a video of my time in a coal mining museum, Wakefield and York (as well as surrounding areas).  I realize this is Celtic music which is more suitable for areas northwest of this region, but I just liked it.  Enjoy!

CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO OF TRIP


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Day 17: Jonathan L. Black-Branch – European Union Law & My True Confession

Okay.  It’s time for a true (and embarrassing) confession.  When I first looked at the choices for a second class at this Law Conference I’m attending and saw, “European Union Law,” well…yes.  I thought the class was over organized union and labor laws in Europe.

And, yes…I immediately began thinking of Billy Elliot’s father and brother in the coal mines.

Then I thought, “Okay – rule that one out.  There is no way I could really ever take anything from that class and apply it to what I do in any given shape or form.” (Unless I wanted to go back and watch Billy Elliot for the fourth time and have a greater appreciation for the strike they were going through….nah).

So, then something in the back of my brain started wrestling with this thought and FINALLY a light bulb turned on.  OOOHHH, yeeeeahhh….European Union (EU).  The EURO…The “Community of now 27 members who recognized each country within the group as sovereign.”  And, today I also learned that “Europe” actually has it’s own flag.

And, the EU provides four freedoms to its members:
1) Free movement of people;
2) Free trade of goods;
3) Free trade of services; and,
4) Monetary (capital) trade, free of restrictions.

I also learned today that Denmark has a tax rate of about 69%, and their tax rate on new cars is 219%.  They also, however, send all their children to school free, including college, and while their students are in college they are provided a monthly stipend of about $1,000 dollars.  And, they recently gave all their citizens $35,000 dollars to start a retirement account.  And, the CEOs of large companies are taxed at approximately 90%.  And, they don’t really want anyone to move into their country, but they have made allowances of approximately 40 apartments at a very high price.  And, if you visit there and can’t speak their language, they all speak English quite fluently.

My point to all this random information is this…I came here to learn, and LEARNING I AM.

I’m immersed in Oklahoma Family Law right now and feel privileged to have such a good professor.  OU really has an asset in Professor Spector.

And, I’m loving my EU Law class.  Professor Jonathan L. Black-Branch has so many positions and teaches for so many colleges (he has six university degrees), that just sitting in the room is like listening to NPR on steroids every minute of the lecture.

CLICK HERE TO SEE WHAT Professor Black-Branch looks like.

CLICK HERE TO SEE HIS VITAE
(The vitae is about 2 years out of date, but you’ll get the idea just by review it…since this publication he’s been appointed Dean of the AVT Business School in Copenhagen).

I hope I get permission to take pictures or video of my professors.  But if not, just avoid me when I get home because I’ll probably be babbling about what I learned for a long, long time.

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Day 16: Bicycles Rule, Cars Slobber Just a Little Bit….(For Bicycle Lovers Everywhere!)

When taking a walking tour this past Sunday, the guide stopped us twice as we approached some alleyways.  She wasn’t looking for cars.  She was concerned that we might be clobbered by a high speed bicycle screeching around the corner.

Photo credit – click here.

If you love bicycles and “bicycle culture,” then you might need to take a pilgrimage to Oxford.  I say pilgrimage because there really is a “home base” feel when it comes to the two-wheeled transportation in this city.

Bicycle polo, bicycle bell orchestras, biker mechanic competitions.  This video gives you a quick idea of the culture…it was made from the 2009 Bicycle Festival:

Click here for an idea about how bikes ARE Oxford…

It’s not just Oxford, however.  When I was in London, a bicycle whizzed in front of a cab that was taking me to a meeting.  The cab honked, and the cyclist slowed down, pointed her finger into the open cab window and yelled, “Are you beeping at ME?”

(Cab driver doesn’t respond).

“HEY – I SAID…are you beeping at ME?”

Cab driver, “Yeah…you cut in front of me now..”

And…THEN came the rant about how cycles are environmentally clean, how they had to use the same road, and on and on.  She clearly felt she was an advocate for cyclists against cab drivers everywhere.  I tried so hard not to laugh.

There are probably 2-3,000 bicycles parked within a square city block of where I’m staying.  A couple of them I walk past every day have been there for a long, long time.  Their tires are sort of folded over and bent, as if they “gave out.” One is being recycled (recycled – get it?) for a sign:

The rumors here are that there is “literally NO crime in Oxford.”  The rumors here are also that “you have to buy the oldest, worst looking bicycle that’s actually in the best shape you can find because if you bring a nice one in, it will just get stolen.”

Somehow the locals are at peace with both of these statements being true.

All I know is that I’ve learned how to look twice when walking past alleyways, and I’m getting a real keen sense for hearing those little bike bells.

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