Chapter Three: The Dreaded Shed
The coronavirus has put the kibosh on a slew of social activities for the time being, forcing many of us to conjure stay-at-home alternatives to fill our days. Bread baking has seen a rise in interest, as has posting the hit-and-miss results on Instagram. (Sorry, @theaussiebaker, but it appears you’ve seriously singed your buns.) Some dedicated fitness buffs have created home workout routines in order to beef up or slim down. I know, it sounds cuckoo to me too. My pal Tim is learning a bit of French, which will come in handy if he’s ever again able to travel to France, or even order in a French restaurant. (This COVID-19 is merde, non?) More than a few of us have even resorted to awkward video chats with friends and family to stave off boredom. Will Aunt Karen ever get her microphone to work? Tune in next week, or the week after, or the week after, to find out! Continue reading
Chapter Two: Pump and Circumstance
Mea culpa. In a previous post on adjusting to life in the UK, I dismissed the widely held view that it is exceptionally rainy here, noting with premature smugness that the weather in the months since my arrival hadn’t been any more inclement than anywhere else I had ever lived. Well, this past winter definitely dampened that naïve notion. From mid-November through the holidays and into the new year, the forecast was persistently grim for much of Britain. In Portsmouth, the coastal city that my spouse and I call home, steady downpours occurred almost daily. And though the clouds parted for brief interludes, you could always count on one thing: At the exact moment you left the house to run an errand or whatever, the heavens would open up. The deluge didn’t subside until March – clear skies greeted us right around the time we were all ordered to stay indoors to keep the coronavirus at bay. Isn’t it ironic, Alanis?
So yeah, newsflash, the possibility of looooong soggy spells in Britain is all too real. As such, homes that have areas below street level, like the two-storey flat the hubby and I bought back in October, need extra protection against flooding. This is why there’s a sump pump on our property. Having hitherto lived my life fully and freely above terra firma, I’ve never encountered one before. In the aftermath of the stressful incident described below in vivid detail, I Googled “what is a sump pump and how does it work,” and discovered that it’s an electric pump system that propels excess water through a pipe up and away from the house and into an external drain. Whether this is done by physics or by Order of the Phoenix-approved wizardry, I’m still not sure. (Wikipedia has the full breakdown, but it’s a lengthy entry and I lost interest pretty quickly.) On a Googling roll, I then did a search for “sump etymology,” because who would name something “sump” on purpose? I learned the term is derived from a “Low German” word meaning “swamp.” Obviously, then I had to Google “Low German,” because that sounded kind of judgy and, well, things just spiraled from there. Continue reading
Whistle for the Work Week Two-Fer!
Remember when whistling was all the rage back in the 2000s? People whistled while riding their Segways and Razor scooters, while clicking through MySpace pages, while watching the West Wing. Or maybe I just dreamed all this. But whistling did find its way into popular music, perking up this jaunty hit by Peter, Bjorn and John and pretty much every other song by Andrew Bird, including this highlight from his brilliant 2009 album, “Noble Beast.” Whistle away!
Celebrating the last truly great decade for pop music.
A pox on your aughts!
One of the great joys of shopping in a record store is being turned on to a new album that the staff is playing. I’ve heard so many great records for the first time that way, and having worked in many a record store myself, I know I’ve turned others on to new music as well. I first heard “What Makes It Go?” by the Swedish band Komeda, in Tower Records in the Around Lenox Shopping Center in Atlanta. (One of the last Towers to open, it was only there for a few years before the whole chain went kablooey.) It’s not the deepest album of the ‘90s by any means, but it’s insanely catchy and fun—check out the track at the link below—and the point is there’s a good chance I might not have heard it any other way. And that unique opportunity for discovery is being lost now, thanks to those damn millennials and their smart phones and their streaming! (Now if you need me, I’ll be mall-walking in my Velcro-strapped sneakers with my thermos full of Ensure.)