… you can go without talking to them for six months and the next time you talk you just pick up where you left off.
It’s true, you know. I’m visiting my friend Beth in England right now and it’s like harldy anytime has gone by since I saw her last. It’s been lovely, walking around Cantebury, seeing the Archbishop’s home, the old cathedral, the Roman wall. Beth and I have had great conversations just the two of us, and we even let her husband Jonathan pitch in when he’s home from work.
I have to admit I was a bit nervous before arriving. I hadn’t seen Beth since Christmas at her state-side wedding reception. And we really only saw each other for a few minutes as she was so busy. So I was a little anxious that perhaps it would be awkward after not spending much time together in probably over a year. Not to mention she’s married, and that seemed to present some adjustment issues. I mean, there’s a man at the house, and she sleeps in the same room as him! That’s just ridiculous! But Jonathan and Beth are perfect together. The way that they tease each other about the new big tele that’s to arrive today that he bought with birthday money. Or how she tackled him last night to try and steal the remote to watch more House, and him yelling “woman! I have to go to bed to go to work!” Or how they are sweet when they are affectionate and I never feel uncomfortable. Or the way they argue about moving to America, and how Jonathan has terrible reasons not to (I’ll get fat from eating too much fast food. They drive on the wrong side of the road, etc.) Or even just the way they look at each other. I know it sounds chick-flick-ish, but these two really were meant to be together. It just seems natural and easy, they fit each other.
I hope I’m like that someday.
I have so much else to say about being here, about the trip over. I almost didn’t make it thanks to a cranky immigration officer. But he finally let me on the train, and despite my roommate Caitlin’s concerns, the Chunnel did not collapse and we crossed safely under 23 miles of water. I had a Kosher meal on the train–definitely the way to go. I think I’m ordering Kosher from now on whenever it’s an option. I had fish, bread, lima beans, potatoes, mushrooms, chopped liver and a lemon tart for desert. Everything but the liver was delicious. They were very very nice too, which was wonderful after that nasty customs man. I don’t know why we stereotype the French as being rude and impolite. Except for a few run-ins while ordering ice cream and crepes, I have had entirely pleasant experiences with the French. We actually have good laughs with each other while I’m trying to communicate with hands and Spanish infused French.
But it is lovely to be in England with English again. Everything is much pleasanter in an English accent. I heard the people uspstairs last night having a heated discussion, but it didn’t sound so bad as the ones I experienced with our apartment neighbours this year. Somehow, the British intonations made the argument softer, almost laughable… We had curry last night. That was great fun: Indian food in Cantebury, England. We might go out again this week and get pub food. It’s too bad it’s not football season, or we might have been able to watch a match. Jonathan’s a Fullham fan. He said it’s okay that I like ManU, it isn’t my fault that they only show the Big Five in America. And besides, he added cheerfully, ManU has more of their stuff sold all over the world, especially in Asia, so really, it’s no one’s fault by Sir Alex Ferguson’s that ManU popularity is spreading like a virus. (and yes, I know that was a terrible run-on sentence)
I am very glad to be here with Beth and Jonathan. I told Beth that I was disappointed in the Euro when my last 12 only transferred as £9.50 and then I had to spend £6 on the train to Cantebury from Ashford. She just shrugged, “well you’re home now, so you don’t need to worry about that. We’ll take care of you.”
Now, if only the sofa bed felt like home…