England Culture Shock
Saturday, February 18th, 2006The children here are so pale that it gives me a stab to the heart every time I look at them—until I remember that this is normal for England in winter time.
It is strange to be back. I’ve started to notice all the little quirks and peculiar mannerisms of the people around here. I’m currently perceiving the country as if it was a Richard Curtis film (‘Notting Hill’; ‘Love, actually’)—as if England is some kind of fairytale land and I am a tourist here, albeit one who is unusually familiar with some of the locals. But not everything is quaint.
Burried underneath a mountain of free-sheets and flyers from the various estate agents who are circling around lucrative properties in this area like vultures, I found a red envelope which John had dismissed as spam and left on the floor, probably because it screamed: Open immediately! This is not a circular!. Inside was a terse letter, dated over a month ago, which demanded that we get in touch with Thames Water within three working days or bailiffs would ‘visit’ with a warrant of execution. I started to tremble.
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