Slow Animals
I haven’t watched much TV while I’ve been away, but I did catch a game on the opening weekend of the new English Premier League football season. One of the adverts caught my eye particularly.
What’s in a Name?
I don’t know whether everybody else does this too, but I have developed several rules of thumb to be relied upon whenever I meet someone new. One of these is: “Never trust a person who can’t spell or pronounce their own name.”
Weights and Measures
It’s a well-known fact that everything in the US is bigger than the equivalent in the UK. Except for Dorset. And Manchester. And, curiously enough, eggs. American hens must be quite slim, lithe things that are out running at 4.30am in the morning, while their British cousins are still slobbing about in bed, because “extra large” hens’ eggs in the US would only qualify as “large” at best in the UK.
Accentuating the Positive
Some readers probably think that I have a tendency to exaggerate the language issues involved in communications I have with Americans. But any Brit living in the US will be able to provide a long list of such examples. So will Australians, for that matter.
Signs of Confusion
After a wonderful couple of weeks in the middle of the Green Mountains of Vermont, Strudel and I have now decanted to Maine for the next two weeks. I have no idea where we’ll be going next. All the maps and signs are so confusing that it’s difficult to know which way to turn.
New Jersey
I’ve been musing with a few people about where Strudel and I should go next, after our time in Vermont runs out. Cathy was keen to make a case for New Jersey. But I think that state is a bit schizophrenic.
Spooky Scooby
I have mentioned before that neither Strudel nor I are much into hiking. But we do venture on a reasonably brisk perambulation twice a day.
Theme Songs
I have noted before that, these days, everything needs sponsorship. What I neglected to mention, however, is that everything needs a theme song too. Despite that omission, I have been ruminating on the matter for the past few days.
Salt of the Earth
As Linda had told me it would, the drive up from St. Petersburg took around 24 hours in all. Most of the trip was actually quite pleasant. No doubt this was partly because I took her advice about the route. But I was also impressed by the road construction idiom that most of the highways had adopted.
Ensconced
One of the many joys of traveling is, of course, the opportunity to sample new food. But sometimes what seems new turns out to be familiar, just masquerading under another name. And sometimes I expect to see something familiar, only to be utterly flummoxed by what looks up at me from my plate.