The other day I had a painter in the flat to work on the windowsills and when I offered a cup of tea we started chatting. After a few minutes this very nice fellow - a lifelong resident of Hackney - asked why I moved to England.
I offered the true and short reason: I came here because I wanted to live in a more equal society, where everyone has access to health care, education, and housing.
He looked puzzled and asked "But don't you miss your mum?"
There is at times an enormous gaping chasm between my perception of a situation and what an objective observer might report. One example: I cling with bloody shredded fingers to the notion that I am working class, despite all evidence (education, income, career, tendency to scamper off to the Riviera on a whim) to the contrary.
Usually this distortion makes no difference in real terms except that I am inclined to say critical and highly offensive things at dinner parties. Or, you know, live on the radio. Whatever.
I have continued unpacking (with one hand, moving very slowly) and yesterday found my baton. And I still know how to twirl! Though a demonstration will have to wait until I recover from the latest malady.
I also found a Kienow's bag, last seen in Portland circa 1996. Will the archives never end??
On that subject, my entire surviving wardrobe has been restored to me. There isn't much left - the majority of my books and clothes were ruined by flooding when I moved to the United Kingdom - and I am not fond of the remainders.
The other night I took my son to Doctor Who Live, where we queued to queue to queue as vendors worked the crowd.
I gestured at a woman peddling fluffy pink balls of sugar and asked "What is it called in our language??"
Kid, sighing: "Cotton candy, Mom."
Census kinda dude (what do they call that here?) came by today and I was able to proclaim my status as a British citizen for the first time! Then I registered to vote.
Oh, the power!
Except of course I always live in places where my vote is rather incidental. I still cast a ballot in Seattle, for instance, but that city is so progressive (with a sincere and bombastic devotion to retaining military dollars and encouraging assorted sinister industries - oh, hometown! The contradictions!) it hardly matters.
I am thankful every day that I chose England over Germany, but events this week illustrate the reasons in a specific way.
Private health insurance companies, with few exceptions, are able to refuse cover of pre-existing conditions. If, like me, you have a dominant genetic disorder, a secondary cancer diagnosis, and a free-floating auto-immune disorder variously acknowledged or disputed by specialists, it is rather hard to define anything as a "new" symptom.
Earlier this year I declared that I would not spend another August in Cambridge, yet here I mysteriously remain!
That is a problem that will be rectified posthaste.
I'm not greedy. I simply require all of my wishes to come true. And, like the Kray twins, I always start as I mean to go on.
But wherever will I live next? Dual nationality means I can stay here, go home, or pick any destination I desire in the European Union.
The most astonishing news of the decade: our applications were approved.
We are officially British citizens.
Soapboxes are for soap. I'm not into preaching, which is why I was never into reading young adult literature because it was so preachy. I wanted to show reality as it is, not as I think it should be, and from there present positive ways that reality can be addressed. Teenagers have sex. And they ain't gonna stop because I say to. I think the scene in the lunchroom where all the girls are talking about condoms and protecting yourself gives a subtle message. And you also have the "virgin girl" Toya, who is yet another kind of project girl. The reality of teenage pregnancy is exactly as I describe it. Raven feels almost disoriented, like "How did this happen? How can I get my life back on course?" Reality is defying the odds, struggling through whatever situation you're in, and keeping your head up if you can. Other authors can preach and scold if they like.
