pondered observations

Good morning. Sitting comfortably?

Throughout the week I’ve been having little thoughts, and it seemed worthy that you should hear a selection of them. Because there is no overriding theme here, other than that they are the harvest of my grey jelly goop, they are presented in list format:

• Acts of kindness are nice. Helping people down stairs is friendly. But I hope people don’t judge others when they don’t – I’ve noticed this week that in 4 instances of being able to help a pram down/up stairs, I was only observant enough to notice once. Not that I didn’t want to help, but that I hadn’t contemplated that assistance was needed. I’m now on regular pram watch in stations, as well as generally trying to be helpful – before I tended to shut out the outside world, unless some guy is talking smack talk down his phone (see previous post and bullet point two).
• Man who hates his depressed wife was back at the station this week. Apparently he hates the fact he has to “support” his house bound partner (who apparently is depressed but not diagnosed). I am still truly shocked that he can be so selfish with regards to his life partner. I always remember what the vicar told us at pre-wedding counselling: “talking about your wife about others in the pub will not solve anything. The only person that should hear your problems with each other is your partner.”
• Modified Clios / Corsas / Fiestas etc. I understand that you are seeking to ‘add value’ to your machine, but seriously, what is the point of exhausts that make more noise? All it does it make your car sound like it needs repairing. I theorised on Thursday that perhaps they do it to make their car sound like it has a really flash engine. However, these exhausts are not that good. They will not hide the fact that you are driving a tiny little box with thin wheels. Modify something cool, so everyone actually likes what you are doing.
• Language is cool. Translating is still opening my eyes to the complexities of the world. People often think that speaking another language is a simple process, that warm will equate to “warm” in the other language. The fact of the matter is, any matching words are merely equivalents. There is never truly a like for like word. Translating across two languages is difficult and interesting for exactly that reason – there (in highest likelihood) will never be two exact replica translations. Its so personal – choices from word selection, to register variation – are we talking to the queen, or a miner? I love it. LOVE IT.
• It has been quite a wet week too. I always wonder why people are so shocked when flooding occurs at this time of year. It always happens at this time of year. Sure its not a very nice thing to have happen, but its part of the routine. Some years are worse than others, but on the whole it isn’t something life-threatening (again, most of the time it isn’t). We’ve gotten better at coping too – highest rainfall ever this year (according to BBC radio news), but we’re not seeing the devastation that we had a few years back.
• In a mild form of stupidity, I’m slowly discovering that what you put in to Twitter, you get out. Also, follow Friday is a system whereby you actually add new people, rather than just promoting people you like. So in the spirit of #FF, I’ve started actually using people’s follow tweets to select new people to follow. Game on yo, etc.

That’s that. The Daily Mail is still irking me, after seeing its headline relating to the new EU president (something to effect of “Ruled by a Belgian? OVER OUR DEAD BODIES” to which I would simply say yes, and pull the trigger). But I don’t want to get back into that kettle for a while. I leave you to enjoy your weekends, knowing that I will be spending most of mine translating German legal texts, which is like punching yourself with a bowling ball, but with vocabulary.

Have fun.

…comes great responsibility

Having now worked at a certain shoes store for almost 4 months now, things are happening. I was threatened with responsibility today. Not in an evil way, but in a Patrick Stewart turning around and telling you “you have the bridge” kind of way. I am set to ‘run’ the store on some days. RUN the store. That means I will be responsible not only for an entire building, but also for lots of MONEY. Like minimum two thousand. THOUSAND.

This isn’t supposed to be some kind of crazy. I think that at the age of 24, I should be doing this level of work anyway – it’s not like I’m a Saturday kid or anything. I have the knowledge, and the calmness to succeed. But for some reason, the slight mention that I might be someone’s manager for a day sounds terrific. That’s terrific in a sense of terrifyingly exciting, horrifyingly cool. Scarily fun.

Responsibility comes in all shapes and sizes and at all kinds of times in life. But I’ve never truly felt the bite of it as of yet. Sure, as a teacher I felt responsible, watching and teaching all those crazy little kids learning their times tables and so forth. I understood my responsibility as a husband when I married aged 23. Sure, at 21 I realised that I was completely and utterly adulted, and responsible for myself. At 18, I realised my responsibility to vote and be held accountable in a court of law…

None of these things really spooked me though. They were fact o’ life, dealio kind of things. I taught ergo I look after the class, I married, ergo I care for the wife.

I think its the money factor. As a fully fledged adult, having a sorry understanding for the hell that is value, money is something that requires a responsible person. At the end of the day, I alone will be responsible for the amount of money in that till. I will have to count stacks of £20s, £10s and £5s. Eek.

I’m sure when the time finally comes, it’ll be fine. I generally find that taking things minute by minute is the best way to roll with those life punches.

Outside of work, I heard a domestic at a train station. This guy was ranting down the phone at his wife/girlfriend/partner, who had been paranoid about his whereabouts and activities. There were swearwords and anger abound. I was really surprised that he was going for it to be honest – he was surrounded by a throng of people all of whom could hear this craziness.

The single worst thing though, was the technique he was using to ask her to keep quiet. For me, this exhibited in full clarity where the difficulty lay. Much like a certain Mexican dog trainer, he was “tsk”ing her. Actually “tsk”ing. She would be trying to talk and “tsk!” Horrendous. I mean it is like treating her on a lower level to himself. A unity is based on balance. Give and take. That guy was clearly taking the piss.

That said, as much as we’d all love to believe our relationships are 50/50, I think everyone can think of a time when it hasn’t been. So if people do overact, or say something that they (hopefully) regret, be ready to forgive and move on. Let’s all be responsible for being nice!

happy anniversary

You could be forgiven for thinking that I have writer’s block. Or for thinking I’ve been incredibly lazy.

Although both may be potentially true, they aren’t the entire reason for the 14 day drought of words on this page. Nope.

Fact of the matter is, during the last weekend the year clocked onto our wedding anniversary. Combined with the previously mentioned issues, I almost forgot to post. I know, I know. I really must not let such tiny quibbles interrupt my writing.

One year married. I’ve been with my wife for a very long time now, actually heading towards 5 years.

That sentence is wonderful for two reasons. One, it shows that I have had a happy relationship for a long time; two, it hides the fact it took me about ten minutes to count back how long it has been (my wife pre-empted such forgetfulness and actually bought me a ring with the date of our first… date inscribed on it). 5 years. Thinking back it seems such a long time. In that time between us we’ve finished 3 higher education courses, lived in separate countries and moved home twice (more counting Universities). These aren’t extravagant or extraordinary in the scheme of things, but it is been amazing to think that we’ve lived over half a decade in harmony.

I purchased a book for my gift to her this year (the tradition being paper for anniversary 1). She has a penchant for reading “how to” guides on the English. Not because she needs to mind, but because she likes to acknowledge what she has already learned. She has read Kate Fox’s “Watching the English” (which is an astoundingly accurate portrayal of the British by the way), laughing throughout because she had experienced the very things the book describes: she dealt with my English eccentricities, and I her American mannerisms for 3 whole years before we found the book and got to laugh at it all.

People often think that because we speak the same language that we are alike.

Hell no.

I mean, certainly not.

I don’t want to go into too many details, because then we’ll fly by the 600 mark, but put simply, we are as similar as a cat is to an elephant. Yes, we are both animals, but seriously do not make the mistake of putting us in the same pigeon hole. Generally speaking (note the bold emphasising the fact I am generalising and therefore making it up as I go along) Americans are confident, loud and can be seen as rather bullish when seen in an English eye. Similarly, the English (generally speaking) can be seen to be two faced, rude and placid (unless drunk) by Americans.

I think she’ll like the book, in a “I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE SAYING! ENGLISH WEIRDOS!” kind of way.

I think some people underestimate how much she has learnt about English nuances and activities. She “gets” us.

She has even grasped the concept of a “chav”.

That said, her American-ness certainly still shines through. And I love it.

I love the way that if stuff is faulty / taking too long / has ice in when no ice was ordered she will be “all up” on them, which basically translates as “I literally take you DOWN unless you exchange this piece of s**t!” I love it too that if, in typical English fashion, a company is then obnoxious about its’ poor service, she will boycott them. Yes. My wife boycotts businesses. So far, Ryanair and Primark (during Christmas time), the Leeds branch of Morrison’s, Virgin Media (when it was ntl) and Direct Line’s repair arm, UK Assistance  have been boycotted. Usually it will be because something is wrong that everybody else just puts up with. Ryanair’s stealth pricing, the layout of Morrison’s Leeds and ntl’s horrific customer service were all things that people whine over but do little about. Apparently in America, this would. not. happen.

It frustrates my wife that we English people put up with this stuff.

It’s also hilarious when we shop and she wants to get it over with quickly. Supermarkets and shops are all potential holding pens for crazy. Children running around with arms flailing, people randomly stopping to look at stuff… it produces some choice reactions. My personal favourite is a time when we were in debenhams, in the kitchen / bathroom section looking at appliances and the towels placed nearby. These two kids were running around us screaming as they chased each other when my wife had enough. She speaks calmly and loud enough for anybody to hear in a 50 metre radius: “I am SO GLAD that I don’t have any kids” whilst one of the children is stood next to her.

The little kid looked up, saw the fury, shut up and ran away silently.

Happy Anniversary dear.