After living in Britain for quite a few years it is surely normal that I have adapted to a few of the local customs. I haven’t quite go to the point where I make a cup of tea as the answer to anything, probably because I am a coffee drinker. I do not have a biscuit tin. I haven’t fallen in love with EastEnders or Coronation Street, and I don’t feel comforted by the sound of their theme tunes. When I go abroad I don’t go looking for a place that will serve me a full English breakfast, and I haven’t even got into the Sunday tradition of making a roast. On the first day of sunshine I do not put my summer clothes on, and the bright red lobster look so many have after the first warm day, is not one I have adapted.
I am getting better at being upset by the ultimate crime which obviously is queue jumping. Probably my most British trait of them all though is the ability to talk at length about the weather.
This Easter weekend the reason was just highlighted so magnificently. Easter Sunday we spent all day outside in the warm beautiful spring sunshine. Easter egg hunt in the garden, cooking and eating our traditional lamb dinner outside. It was SO lush! Next day though, we had snow and it was dark, windy and cold, the absolute opposite. It was bonkers! Imagine living somewhere where the seasons happens in a normal textbook kind of way, rather then somewhere where you can have all seasons in one day. But then also imagine how limited conversations would become in this country if we didn’t have the weather to talk about.
Anyways, that is my ponderings as I am sitting here freezing my fingers and the few toes I have off, because we Brits do not have the heating on in April as it is practically summer. Off to put the kettle on and get my kids to line up just because I feel the need to join a nice orderly queue.