[Blogger’s note: I was born and raised in America, moved to Canada for love in the early Aughts, and recently relocated again, in my 50s, with my British-born spouse to the southern coast of his homeland. This is an occasional series about learning new tricks in Merry Old England.]

The Madonna Syndrome: Learning When and When Not to Talk Like a Brit

“You look to be a man of rude health,” a colleague of my spouse told me when we were introduced at a pub one evening recently. From his genial tone, typical of the Brits I’ve met since moving to the U.K., I guessed that he meant I appeared outwardly robust with no discernible signs of pestilence. But the use of the word “rude” threw me. After all, I was born and raised in the Southern U.S., where rude is never a good thing. He must have noticed the puzzled look on my face because he hastily added, “Oh, sorry, you don’t say ‘rude health’ in America, do you? You say ‘ruddy health,’ I think.” I replied with a noncommittal shrug. After his compliment, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that few Americans apart from jut-jawed New England matriarchs and Teddy Roosevelt have ever boasted about being in “ruddy health.” We’re more partial to “fit as a fiddle,” or “right as rain,” or perhaps just exclaiming “I feel good!” and then attempting a few spirited but clumsy James Brown dance moves. Continue reading →

[Blogger’s note: I was born and raised in America, moved to Canada for love in the early Aughts, and recently relocated again, in my 50s, with my British-born spouse to the southern coast of his homeland. This is an occasional series about learning new tricks in Merry Old England.]

Closing Time: Business Hours Can Be Bafflingly Brief in a Seaside Town Bent on Work/Life Balance

“You only have five minutes to order,” cautioned the server at our neighbourhood Japanese restaurant to three newly arrived lunch seekers. “And then you have a maximum of half an hour to finish eating. We do close very soon.” As I gouged at my bento box with chopsticks at a table nearby, the would-be patrons weighed their desire for the restaurant’s good-but-not-great sushi and teriyaki fare against the time constraints and decided to try their luck elsewhere. They shuffled toward the exit, the server following impatiently inches behind.  As soon as the last of the interlopers cleared the threshold, he crisply flipped the Open/Closed sign on the door to the latter. Continue reading →

[Blogger’s note: I was born and raised in America, moved to Canada for love in the early Aughts, and recently relocated again, in my 50s, with my British-born spouse to the southern coast of his homeland. This is an occasional series about learning new tricks in Merry Old England.]

My Two Cents Pence: Currency Exchanges with the Locals

Around the village where we live now, I’m known as “The Dollar Dimwit.”

Okay, nobody has actually called me that to my face. The denizens of Southsea, a picturesque portion of Portsmouth that abuts the English Channel, are far too polite to ridicule me directly—thus far. But I’m sure they’re thinking it as I blunder into their shops and restaurants and blurt, in my all-too-noticeable North American accent, “Is this item on sale for 12 dollars?” Or, “I’ll have the five-dollar lunch special, please.” Or, “The total comes to 3.50 you say? I think I have 50 cents in my pocket.” Continue reading →

[Blogger’s note: I was born and raised in America, moved to Canada for love in the early Aughts, and recently relocated again, in my 50s, with my British-born spouse to the southern coast of his homeland. This is an occasional series about learning new tricks in Merry Old England.]

The Curious Appeal of British Commercial Radio

Growing up in America in the ‘70s, radio was my faithful companion. Be it portable transistor, home stereo, or car dashboard module, I was forever twisting a dial or punching a channel pre-set button, searching for the music I loved.  Commercial radio was my connection to the tunes of the day for a long, long time, the first place I heard Blondie, Parliament, Lou Reed, Devo, Prince and countless other musical heroes. But as I got older, that connection frayed. Continue reading →