DISCLAIMER: All conversations and names are loosely based on facts. Any resemblance to person, place, event, animal or plant is purely intentional.
Culture shock is a very mild word for what I went through, when my feet first touched the land in the famed fatherland of my ancestors. England was all that they had promised and a lot more. For starters Heathrow airport had a population that 75% beige, 20% black and probably 5% (which might be pushing the numbers) white. Jet lagged and confused I thought I had reached Delhi airport and it took me a while to get oriented. Having spent a little over an year in the UK, I in all my wisdom made a few observations.
The weather as you all know.... sucks . If it weren't for those two glorious months of English summer, when the sun deigns to show its face, the aroma of barbecued burgers fills the air, topless rugby gods toss frisbees in the grass and the girls of summer in their short barely there clothes line up in the streets.. the English would have been quite possibly extinct. Ten months in a year the weather is grey and depressing. the problem is that the English don't seem to realize that 4 days of moderate cloudiness, 3 days of rain, 2 days of heavy rain and 1 day of weak watery sunshine does not a summer make. As someone rightly said," There are only two types of weather in England. When its raining or its going to rain ". With all these problems, it's no wonder they lost so many battles, the soldiers must have been clinically depressed.
The country side is another matter on the whole. Miles and miles of rolling fields, littered with black and white baa baas and the sound of cow bells. I had the fortune (good and bad) of being placed bang in the middle of Bedfordshire in the east of civilization and the west of crapsville. Cranfield village boasted of being the last civilized town before you reached the edge of habitation and towns which did not have electricity. And sometimes, because of its proximity to the sewage treatment plant, if the wind blew in the opposite direction... Cranfield literally became 'Crapfield'. Despite all this, upon arriving I could not help but be charmed by beautifully landscaped campus and the friendly people who insisted on asking me whether I was alright (more on that later) and called me love. I loved it, then hated it, then loved it again.
The English are an eccentric lot . You'll find sissies who insist on using tonnes of sunblock, enough to cause an oil crisis in the middle east. So, they use tonnes of this goop in the weakest sunshine one can imagine........... yet think nothing of stripping and running topless to play rugby or going all the way to Portugal to get a tan. And the English women have never failed to amaze me. In what world can someone walk around in a tank top and hot pants in freezing November.... with the only source of warmth being Uggs boots. One can only conclude that Uggs must be 'magic boots'. The women are as loopy as the roads in England.
And why oh why would the English roads be the way they are. If the Romans hadn't invaded, there probably would never have been a straight road on the whole island. I had the good fortune of being in a district that can boast of the highest number of traffic roundabouts. A fifteen minute drive from one town to another was enough to leave you battling with waves of nausea and dizziness. A small mishap on one of these roundabouts had the potential to choke traffic, so much so that traffic from Edinburgh to Birmingham could be brought to a standstill. And the English way of dealing with crisis is always to walk to the next pub (and believe there is one at every few meters... more than the number of subway outlets in the world) and have a pint. A pint of warm beer that is. This vile tasting brew can only be rivaled by the English cuisine. Don't get me wrong I do love a good piece of Cod and chips but when that and Balti cuisine is the only thing edible, you do get sick of it. I never did get the 'Balti' in the balti cuisine. A bastardized version of Indian cuisine with sag aloo and chicken tikka masala topping the list (yes, these are not really dishes that are popular with the real indians). But, balti is something I use to bathe when the shower doesn t work. But, the English do have a way of making the most unappetizing and bland food. Just add a dash of HP or Worchester, old boy !!!
Worchester, my old nemesis. Why is Worchester pronounced wooster ?? Bicester pronounced Bister, Leicester pronounced Lester but Rochester never pronounced Rooster ? They should bloody well know how to spell since they did invent the language.
I have been caught off guard countless times
Mr White : You alright ?
TT : Yeah, its just very cold in this country. I was thinking of getting another jacket. Also I feel a bit homesick, you know how it is..
Mr White < laughing> : luv, when someone asks you whether you alright ? a simple yes thanks or Cheers mate would do ?
TT : Oh . So Are YOU alright ?
Mr White : Cheers mate !!!
TT : Huh ?? but, where's your drink ... how can you say cheers..
Mr White < exasperated now > thinks Stupid Immigrant !!
Mr White: Oh forget it !! So you at Cranfield University, innit ??
TT: In what ???
Mr White shot himself. His funeral is this Friday.
