Last fall my parents were vacationing in Laughlin, Nevada when they heard a couple in the hotel dining room speaking with British accents. Being the hospitable folks that they are, they invited the couple to join them for breakfast and told them their daughter had just moved to Nottingham. The Brits, it turned out, lived practically just down the road in Leicester, and the two couples spent hours chatting. Their friendship now continues via email exchanges and occasional Taste of America and Taste of Britain care packages that wend their way back and forth across the Atlantic. It wasn't long, of course, before I was drawn into this email exchange. I am looking forward to a visit with David and Pauline in Leicester in two weeks time, and I thought American readers might enjoy this email David sent to my parents and me concerning the current "summer" weather here in England--we've had a spate of eight sunny, warm days. I've also included my reply.
On Tue, May 13, 2008 at 7:48 AM, David F. wrote:
Well I never! According to the paper this morning, the 'hot' period that we are having at the moment is the hottest May since 1772! Just think that the last time that Brits were going around in inappropriate clothing, getting burnt to a cinder and looking like tomatoes, America was still under British rule, Mozart was a mere 16 years old and Beethoven was toddling around on tottery legs! I hope the pleasant weather continues if only to encourage all the gardeners to get bedding plants in their gardens. However, the old English saying of "Cast ne'er a clout* 'til May be out" is often true and many gardeners and those who have espoused their winter clothes should be warned! Hope all is well, With all good wishes, David.
Stephanie Fosnight to David F. on Tue, May 13, 2008 at 12:25 PM
Hi David,
Haha, I love your email! It certainly has been a gardener's paradise. And woe betide the slugs who come across my path! I've heard the "ne'er cast a clout" thing a few times before, but I've cast away with abandon the last week.
Be well and ENJOY THE "HEAT." (Every time someone asks me how I've managed to cycle about in all this "heat" I have to work hard not to snicker, Arizona girl that I am).
Stephanie
P.S. Mom and Dad, this insane heat everyone keeps talking about is actually very pleasant weather in the mid- to high- 70s. :) It's rough, but someone has to endure it.
About two weeks ago I went home with my friend Ruth to spend a few days around Kettering, Northamptonshire. It's hard now to remember today just how cold and wet it was, as these photos attest, especially since the last few days have sparkled with dazzling warm sunshine and the once barren winter landscape has exploded in a glory of green leaves and bright flowers (I got quite sunburned today walking alongside the River Trent).
Although we shivered in winter weather two weeks ago, though, the gloom only served to heighten the atmosphere at Kirby Hall, a once stately Elizabethan manor house now fallen into ruins. However English Heritage has done a great job restoring parts of the hall and gardens to their original splendor. The small entry fee includes an audio tour that's extremely informative, explaining not only the history of the building and its owners but also about Elizabethan culture. I found it especially intriguing as I serendipitiously happened to be reading Bill Bryson's latest book, "Shakespeare" (I know I've posted about Bill Bryon several times on this site, but I swear I do read plenty of other authors!) Exploring Kirby Hall, or what's left of it, anyway, really brought Shakespeare's world to life for me, and the part when Ruth and I crouched in the ruins of a stairwell so we could eat our sack lunches out of the wind made the whole excursion even more adventurous.
While much of the main house is still standing, the less well-constructed servant's wing has fallen into ruins. This house was notable for being one of the first to incorporate curved windows.
The squirrel saga will never end. It turns out that now black squirrels (that are really mutant grey squirrels) are pushing out the grey squirrels, just as the greys pushed out the reds.
Today is St. George's Day, the day when England celebrates its patron St. George (he of the Dragon).
Only, it doesn't. Not really.
"I know more about the flippin' Irish St. Patrick's Day than I do about St. George," said my housemate Dave in exasperation today. "I mean, I drink a pint of Guinness on 17th March but I don't do anything for St. George's Day."
He then proceeded to head out to the pub for a pint of real ale.
"Today is St. George's Day," I told my mom by telephone this afternoon.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I assume it's to do with St. George and the Dragon."
Luckily, the trusty Daily Telegraph that arrives each day to adorn our kitchen table (thanks to English Mum) included a special souvenir section all about St. George's and his Day, England and a growing sense of English nationalism. It's a good thing, I think, for the English to be proud of their heritage and cultural individuality, just as the Scots, Welsh and Irish--especially in this era of encroaching chain stores and the village pub and post office closures.
I probably know more about the English medieval legends of St. George (a 4th century martyr to whom medieval storytellers attached fantastic tales) than do most English, mostly because my favorite picture book growing up was the simply beautiful St. George and the Dragon, by Margaret Hodges and illustrated with lavish paintings by Trina Schart Hyman. I can't recommend the book highly enough--it won the 1985 Caldecott medal for illustrations and also introduced this 7-year-old to Edmund Spenser's "The Faerie Queene" at a most precocious age, since Hodgson retells that version of the Georgian legend. Every child on both sides of the pond should read and admire this lovely book! I still treasure my copy and am sad it's in a friend's basement in Waukegan right now, unavailable for reading on the 23rd of April.
As I've posted here before, many in Britain are dismayed by how the native red squirrel has been forced out of its habitats by the North American grey squirrel.
Yesterday the RSPCA (Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) condemned various government-funded efforts to cull grey squirrels as pointless and "ethically dubious."
I have to admit, the large-scale poisoning of grey squirrels does seem like an extreme measure. Perhaps it would be justified if it truly did bring the red squirrels back, but even then I have my doubts about mass killings of these animals. A source interviewed in the article linked to above, that up until the 1970s anyone could get a permit to kill the red squirrels, and that it's just become fashionable now to hate the greys and love the reds.
I really don't know what to think about this. I don't like killing any animals but I do understand the value of preserving native species. Any opinions out there?
It looks as if this whole bizarre inquest into Princess Diana and Dodi Fayed is coming to a close at last, with the official verdict putting conspiracy theories to rest and blaming the paparazzi and drunk chauffuer Henri Paul for killing Diana in a Paris car crash in August 1997.
Last night my housemates and I were exchanging our "where were you when Princess Diana died?" memories. I recall quite clearly that I was running around the quadrangle at my brand-new university, the College of St. Catherine in St. Paul, playing get-to-know-you games with the other first-year students during our college orientation. It was a hot and muggy day made warmer by the games we were playing, and as we stopped to take a breather someone came out of a building and whispered something to our leader. Soon we were all buzzing with the news that Princess Diana was dead.
I didn't think I cared that much about Princess Diana, and yet that moment is emblazoned in my mind as clearly as when I learned about 9-11, so her death obviously impacted me as much as it did the rest of the world. What I haven't really understood, though, during my time in England, is why the details of Diana's love life have been splashed across the front of every newspaper as an inquest costing taxpayers 10 million pounds has proceeded.
I almost sent my winter coat back to Chicago when a couple of American friends visited last week, but a Brit urged me to keep it here "at least through May." Now I know why.
Yesterday I had the fun of visiting Twycross Zoo in Leicestershire with several English friends. When I woke up that morning, I was delighted by the warm sunshine and balmy spring weather, and even opened the kitchen door wide so the gorgeous air could blow in as I sat in my pajamas eating cornflakes.
By the time I hopped on my bike to head to our meeting place one hour later, it had begun to rain, hard, and the temperature was dropping significantly. By the time we got to the zoo, the intermittent rain showers had turned into intermittent hail storms. The hail battered the tulips and daffodils as the giraffes and elephants headed inside. The penguins seemed happy outdoors, though!
This morning I woke up to snow on the ground, and as I pedaled my bike the familiar 2.5 miles to church, I passed lots of cars with snow on the windshields. Then snow began to blow around, but I soon realized the snow was mixing with delicate white petals flying from the blooming cherry trees. As I cycled back from church, snow was falling again and the cherry blossom petals were still swirling about.
My friend and Pioneer Press colleague Jenny Thomas just posted the following fascinating tidbit on her entertainment blog--New Kids on the Block are back together, at least for a reunion performance.
Are boy bands returning to America, just as they're doing in the UK?
Outside the Nottingham Playhouse is a sculpture that looks very familiar. Called Sky Mirror, it's another sculpture by British sculptor Anish Kapoor, also known as the man who created The Bean (formal title Cloud Gate) in Millennium Park.
Although Sky Mirror is on a much smaller scale than The Bean, it's still a marvel. I love the way it reflects the heavens and brings it to earth in a dizzying inversion of proportions. Gazing into it, one really does see the world upside down.
As Chicago Toni posted in an earlier comment on this site, Sky Mirror is also known around these parts as the sculpture that might have spelled doom to pigeons. However, I believe those fears were unfounded, as I can find no mention of even a single singed pigeon.
This morning, as I scurried around the tennis court picking up balls blown about wildly by the spring wind, I made sure I had all four tucked into my pockets. As I lobbed them back over the net to my playing partner Emma, I had a passing thought. Back in my other life, I played tennis regularly in Evanston with Dawn but in America only three balls come in a cannister. I did a double-take the first time I saw Emma's seemingly extra-long English cannister of four tennis balls, but it's now become second nature to play with four balls instead of three.
There are so many other small, almost inconsequential differences about life over here that, when added together, sometimes make me feel the world is knocked slightly askew. For example, it took me awhile to realize that a standard sheet of paper is not 8 inches by 11.5 inches, but 8 inches by 12.5 inches. Notebook paper has four holes on the sides, not three, and it goes into 2-ring binders, not 3-ring binders.
My earlier post about American grey squirrels vs. European red squirrels has provoked a few responses, so I thought I'd take another look at the issue.
The government is indeed taking steps to cull the grey squirrels, according to this BBC report, not only because the greys take food and other resources from the reds, but also because they carry a squirrel pox virus that doesn't affect them but is fatal to the reds. One minister said the government would most likely use poison to cull the greys.
It's worth noting the passion this stirs up amongst those in Great Britain. A cursory Google search reveals that nearly every region has a "Friends of the Red Squirrel" type group, from North Scotland to southern England to Wales.
As England faces its own immigration crises and deals with a swelling population, there's been great debate about building more housing while still protecting the land. Therefore, an article called "Rare red squirrels halt project to build houses" caught my eye.
Finally, grey squirrels really are fascinating creatures, too, despite the damage they cause. Did you know they forget where they hide their nuts and rely on scent to find them? Check out these fun facts, sure to impress the folks at your next cocktail party.
If you'd like to learn a bit more about Sunday dinner and also find several recipes for some Yorkshire favorites, see these Food stories I wrote for Pioneer Press papers in the suburbs. They appeared in about 60 papers this past Thursday.
Tomorrow at my house, we're having roast chicken, roast parsnips and potatoes for Sunday dinner, along with stuffing, gravy and Yorkshire puddings, of course. Yum.
Friends, I'd like to take just a moment of your valuable time to discuss a subject that affects us all--squirrels.
That's right, squirrels. You may be a gardener (no doubt itching to get into the far-off springtime soil) who is now whiling away the tail end of winter by hatching creative ways to keep the pests from stealing your produce spoils. Or you may be a nature lover who just enjoys watching the squirrel families scamper about the trees, marveling over their curiosity, resourcefulness and dexterity.
I, myself, have a love-hate relationship with the squirrels. I've been in both the gardening and the nature-loving camps. I enjoy watching them, but there was one summer spent shaking my fist at the varmints as they took every single green tomato off the vine and brazenly ate them on the branch outside my second-story window, adding insult to injury by spitting choice bits down onto my car roof below.
But consider now the British red squirrel, a vibrant, cheeky little creature whose scarlet coat simply glows. The sad truth of the matter is that the big, pushy American grey squirrel is taking over the plucky red squirrel's habitat and causing marked species decline.
