The More Things Change

Greetings from bonnie auld Scotland, where we’ve just finished stumbling through our German and shrieking out our lungs with Bach, and have come home, wind-whipped and hoarse and mostly happy.

A little status report on the gas situation: there’s been no progress, so home is a bit chilly just now, but it’s not too bad; we can only see our breath in the morning, before we’ve turned on the oven and lit fifteen or twenty candles. Just kidding. It really is not that bad. (Yet.) The people from the gas company came and knocked another hole in the wall, peered down into its dusty and uninsulated depths, and then …left. T. was a little annoyed that since D. was home, the workmen wouldn’t even speak to her — with the legitimate male of the realm around, there was apparently no need. Anyway, we have given the property managers two more weeks to pull themselves together. Here’s hoping that in two weeks, they’ll have come up with something…There are so many other things in the flat that remain unusable — from light fixtures to dead plugs to the oven (which heats unevenly, since the door doesn’t actually close unless it’s wedged with a chair and a footstool) — that we’ve just lived with, as one has to at times, but the gas… really, it’s probably time to stop being so patient (and lazy. Because we really don’t want to move. Again).

Meanwhile, on more pleasant topics, it’s October, and there are leaves drifting everywhere as the winds pick up and blow the rain at a 90° angle. This is the “first” autumn rain, which, considering that it didn’t really stop raining this summer until the end of September, it’s a bit hard to differentiate!

It’s been nice once again not to have such a huge emphasis on Halloween in this country; back home the advertising seems to start in August and roll on ’til five minutes before Christmas. Our hostess the other night at the University gathering said that in Scotland, children didn’t expect to get candy just for nothing. “In my neighborhood,” she said firmly, “we had to sing a song or recite a poem.” Now, in T.’s old neighborhood, that would certainly make an interesting change!

Another woman was rather enthusiastically describing the wildness that happens on Mischief Night… “Mischief Night?” T. asked politely. “Now, where is that?” There was a bewildered pause. “But, it’s an American holiday,” she insisted. T. looked to D. for assistance, but he just shrugged. Fortunately, the internet exists to help us with these little trivialities. We discovered that Mischief Night is a pre-Halloween run up celebrated by some Scottish and Irish-American peoples — on the Northeast Coast. It was funny to once again be discussing the U.S., and have someone insist that we Californians should know things which happen miles and miles away in Rhode Island and Maine.

Fortunately, Halloween is mostly an American consideration, but it’s a little strange to live in a country that has no conception of the familiar candies we enjoy this time of year. Take Salt water taffy, for instance (which is actually a late summer/State Fair kind of thing). We went into a candy store this summer and looked high and low, and the rather taciturn (READ: rude) proprietor said she’d never heard of it, and there was nothing in Scotland made with salt water. We tried to explain… and it turned out to be pointless, she was not in the mood. (READ: very rude.)

(Note to our UK readers: salt water taffy was first made in Atlantic City, N.J. in the 19th century, and sold on the boardwalk in a tiny shack store which was allegedly flooded — thus the name salt water or ocean wave or even sea foam taffy. It’s very easy to make, but indeed contains no salt water. At all.)

Another candy no one here recognizes is …candy corn. Okay, to be fair, no one honestly recognizes candy corn — (because, really, what IS it? It has no relation to corn other than corn syrup) — but it’s a little sad to mention having a craving for one or two pieces (which is really all anyone above the age of six with nerve endings in their teeth can eat per year) and realize no one knows what we’re talking about! Oh, well. We don’t quite get the whole “Yorkie: Not For Girls” candy bars, either.

Finally, another funny little moment happened when T. was looking at groceries this week. Apparently there’s a brand of food sold in Tesco called Big Green Tick. Now, in the UK, a tick is… a check mark. It has nothing to do with blood-sucking insect life. (No, really.) On the package of Big Green Tick products, there is indeed a check mark that is big, and green. However, the rather literal-minded T. saw “Big Green Tick Turkey Dippers” for sale, and had a moment of wildly uncontrolled giggling that no one else understood…

*sigh* The poor people in our neighborhood really do think we’re weird. Which is, regrettably, true…

– D & T

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