An Englishman In New York

Once again...

My message from the fortune cookie that came with the Chinese I had yesterday. I choose to believe this is a positive appraisal of my own work, not just a general observation…

After a fairly chilled weekend, we’ve been making up for the downtime this week. Steen spent most of Monday working online with some of her supervisees - practicing counsellors who are required to see a supervisor to discuss their workload once a month; a kind of “who watches the watchers” deal. The net result of this was that she spent most of Monday in Charlie’s office, video-conferencing with her supervisees, which left yours truly with nothing to do but to keep ploughing on with the crafting projects Steen and Barbara have been finishing up in readiness for this weekend’s craft sale - chiefly a bunch of diamond paintings, something that she’s encouraged me to do for fun/relaxation in the past. There’s no denying that it’s effective in inducing a trance state of sorts, and apparently I do do neat work. So I plodded away with that whilst Steen earnt her crust, pausing only for a spot of lunch, before Steen emerged mid-afternoon to join me.

Then on Tuesday, Steen, Charlie and I set off nice and early on our way down to Massachusetts, to visit Charlie’s sister, B—, her husband R—, and their daughter H—. H— and her partner run a fairly sizeable farm, which has become our preferred meeting place, not least because Charlie & Barbara can buy some freshly dispatched cow from their herd. Not for the first (or likely last) time, I was impressed by H—’s genuine affection for the herd, and fascinated by the very empathic way she approaches the fact that they are bred to eventually meet their maker and be transformed into steaks. They are all named, and are treated with great care and respect; yet their inevitable end comes with no misgivings about the nature of that end, just an acceptance that this is how things are. For someone like me - who would probably be cheerfully vegetarian if bacon hadn’t been invented, or at least pescatarian - this is simultaneously amazing and puzzling. I get it; yet I can’t fathom how I would ever arrive at the same philosophical conclusion.

Still, it was lovely to see everyone, and we spent a good few hours setting the world to rights, gently poking fun at B— and Charlie, and making the usual comparisons between British and US life, which perhaps inevitably seems to be a common thread that folks over here seize on when confronted with a Brit. It’s strangely amusing to be so utterly ordinary at home and yet such a bewildering rarity over here, with passers-by marvelling at my accent (as though it sounds like something from Downton Abbey, rather than something from darkest Worcestershire), my attire, my vocabulary (“Hey, he said, ‘loo’, how utterly charming!”). Then finally it was time to wave everyone (and the herd) a fond farewell and repeat the three-hour road trip in reverse, pausing only for the inevitable interstate toilet (loo!) break.

Yesterday was another chilled day, mostly spent diamond painting and fossicking around with odd jobs; then today we spent the morning wandering the roads: first for a brief appointment for Charlie, then a trip to Cracker Barrel for breakfast (think of Cracker Barrel like a restaurant chain that thinks everything since the late 50s/early 60s was a mistake, with an emphasis on Southern-style hospitality). A slap-up feed was just what the doctor ordered, but even that was left on a faintly sour note: as we waited outside afterwards for Charlie and Barbara to emerge, we saw a bunch of guys arrive in a series of three 50s-era classic cars (which were impressive), and treat us to a view of their chosen attire (which was less so). Particularly dispiriting was the T-shirt of one of their number, which boldly proclaimed on the rear, Fancy making things more electric? Start with the border fence! Which pretty much illustrates perfectly the quality of political debate in the US at the moment.

Then it was into the nearby BJs (save your jokes, please; I think I cracked most of them myself the first time I experienced the place. I’ll just admit I sniggered when I typed the name of the store, as I always do, and leave it at that. Hey, like I said last time, sophisticated I am not.) to stock up on some supplies, and buy our own weight in painkillers that would require a prescription in the UK but are available off the shelf here in the wacky Upside Down of America. The scale of BJs (stop that sniggering!) is impressive - everything just piled up in enormous pallets, available in vast quantities involving no fuss whatsoever. People roll up in their huge gas-guzzling SUVs and routinely buy a year’s worth of toilet paper, or buy enough burgers to feed one of the smaller states, and so on. It’s the American penchant for convenience taken to its logical extreme, and wandering around what is essentially Area 51 for foodstuffs and home supplies is a strangely surreal experience for those of us not brought up on it all.

Crikey. Just look at it all. This is just one aisle of literally zillions.

It just goes on and on and on and on (as Ronnie James Dio used to remind us).

Anyway, we’ve been back at base this afternoon and have finally - we think! - finished working on the stuff for the craft sale. Charlie and I retrieved two trestle tables from Charlie’s nearby church this evening upon which to place our carefully crafted goodies over the course of the weekend, so we are now hoping the weather gods smile upon us so sales can be maximized.

Steen and I both found ourselves thinking of things at work today, so I checked in once again with my (already long-suffering, I’m sure!) Work Wife J—. She patiently answered my questions despite doing her best to discourage me from thinking too much about work, since I am after all on annual leave for another fortnight; but this is the stuff my Work Wife is made of. Like all wives (Work Wives or otherwise), they are surprisingly tolerant of their partner’s foibles. I hope in my turn I am similarly understanding. Naturally, things are afoot which require our attention, and yet, and yet… There is a balance to be struck between placating our inner employee and maintaining our holiday disconnect. I’m not sure I’ve truly struck that balance as yet, but I think in our new roles, J— and I (for J— admitted to a similar attitude when it comes to her own upcoming holiday time) can both be forgiven for splitting our focus. So far, our holidays seems to have been progressing quite slowly, but as our time in Pennsylvania - the coup de grace of our vacation - draws closer, time seems to be contracting rather than dilating, and we seem to be quickly running out of days to do other things. Something tells me that next week will pass really very quickly!

More on that as it happens.