Ah, the in-laws.

How I appreciate them. They are too funny.

Congratulations Meg and Chris on attaining your master’s degrees. Very very proud here.

This is awesomeness.

Longbottom is a real last name here.

How do I know? I received a letter signed by an Electoral Registration Officer with the last name ‘Longbottom’. In addition, I also received a voter registration form. It is mandatory that the occupant/recipient fill out the form or call the number or go online to register. British citizens are required by law to give the information asked for in this form. This may sound similar to our census  process but it is not a ‘census-taking measure’.

BUT FIRST! A little Natalie-Zen: http://dailybooth.com/MollieB/latest/large.jpg

In the US you register to vote via a form that you go get from some purveyor of said form. Then you fill it out with the appropriate information about yourself and where you live, send it in to the state electoral board, and you receive a card stating your political affiliation or non-affiliation. You do this when you turn 18 or later on… just WHENEVER.

So, here in the UK, a registration form is sent to the house and details of the people eligible to be registered who are living in that house on a certain day (October 15, 2010) must be entered on the form. Here’s the details: Surname, first name and other initials, Nationality, and Jury Service Exemption (only for those over 70 y/o).  Also, you indicate via checkmark for the following: if you do not wish to appear on the edited register AND if you wish to apply for a postal vote. I don’t know what that is exactly. Things are counter-intuitive here. It could be simple, like someone wants the ballot sent to their home so that they can then mail in their vote. Or it could be something completely different, like your vote is cast for the candidate from your postal area. Who knows? I have to ask about this. The last thing that is glaringly different than our registration process is that you include the names of anyone over the age of 16 along with the birthdates. 16/17 year olds do not vote until they are 18 anyways, so I question this… Turning the paper over to the back has “About This Form” FAQs.

I look for more info about the 16/17 registering and I quote: “Please provide the details of any 16 and 17 year olds in the property. Make sure you include their date of birth so that they can vote as soon as they are 18.” AND THAT’S IT. I look over to the Age info: “You must be 18 or older to vote.” So I was right. But then it goes on: “You can register to vote when you are 16.”

WHY?

What are they going to be doing for the next two years? So I read some more about the ‘full’ and ‘edited’ registers.

“The full register lists the name and address of everyone who is registered to vote. Anyone can look at a copy of it in the council office… it is a criminal offence to supply or use copies for purposes other than those set down in law.” {Okay, I’m on board with this….} “The main use of the full register is to show who can vote in elections and referendums.” {Reasonable… I’m thinking} “Credit reference agencies can use it, but only to check your name and address if you are applying for credit and for other purposes specified in law” {Wait a minute…starting to head from the shallows toward the deep end of the pool} “It can also be used for law enforcement.” {WHAT FOR? IN WHAT WAY?}

“The edited register is available for general sale and can be used for any purpose.” {!((@#)*} “The edited register can be bought by any person, company or organisation and can be used for commercial activities such as marketing.” {Hmmm, thinking we dodged a bullet there because this is definitely deep end floaties}

So I imagine that the buyers of this list are looking for consumers and can get all sorts of lovely info about you because the form is confusing. It is worded in that typical confusing way forms have. “√ If you do not wish to appear on the edited register. (already ticked = excluded now delete if necessary).”

This can be interpreted two ways:

(1) write a check mark if you do not wish to appear on the edited register.

(2) If you do not wish do appear on the edited register, delete the checkmark.

Most people don’t take a lot of time to analyze forms and don’t pay attention anyways. So if you left the preprinted checkmark alone then you won’t appear on the ‘free-for-all’ list. But the format uses the negative which is a ‘no-no’ and also uses the word ‘excluded’. It seems misleading: JoeBob English doesn’t want to be excluded from a list. Human nature, right? Just a bunch of joiners? But the font on the form is small too, so I know that there are some who don’t read closely because they CAN’T see closely.

Oh, and if you are in anyway untruthful about the information you put on this form, you face fines up to £1000. You can bet I called the number before I hit the confirm button online.

At the end of the first quarter...

We're on top of the mall right next to the train station. That's the train station behind Natalie but in front of the old buildings.

On Saturday, we took the train to Edinburgh. It’s a two hour train trip and it was a very pleasant way to travel. Dan wants to travel by train everywhere now. The trick when traveling with kids is to have something for them to do but the majority of seats are like airplane seats: slightly bigger/taller with a small tray that folds down. The seats are two on each side and not too uncomfortable. Natalie likes to be doing something when she’s not watching for sheep or rabbits. So I reserved ‘table’ seats online. That was the smartest thing I did for that day. She was able to color easier than if we had the normal airline seats. The train went over 100 mph at several points in the journey. There were times when we could see the North Sea as we went north there and back south. Didn’t see any castles en route but did see a rather large house. I guess it may have been a manor house at some point. It was too far away to see if it was still a private residence.

So we arrived and had some time to kill before we went on our bus/boat tour of Edinburgh. We let Natalie run around on the roof of the mall and in the park with the memorial to Scott. Took a couple of pictures. Then we got on the bus. 20/20 hindsight: had it just been the two of us, we would have gotten on the bus as soon as it arrived. We didn”t and we ended up in the back of the bus where the windows were covered by that semi-opaque window stuff that advertisers use. Sadly, a lot of what everyone else got to see we didn’t see because the view was obscured by the bus company’s need to self-promote. On the tour, the pre-recorded voice told us about the multiple memorials to authors in the city, but we didn’t drive by any except two…the one for Scott and some other writer. You can tell it made a big impression on me.

The boat ride was nice enough…We embarked on the boat at a really small hamlet called North Queensferry… named so after the Queen who visited the town… 900 years ago. And it really was quite small. It only had one pub and no shops that I could see…just a pier. Where I live, we have two pubs and two grocery stores, so I’m sitting fairly pretty. So we head inland at first up the River Forth, ostensibly for the purpose of going under the bridge just to say we’re going under this bridge that is falling to bits. Seriously. They said they have fans on the cables to dehumidify them so they won’t snap. I can neither confirm nor deny this. Maybe I misunderstood… I was occupied with keeping my kid from climbing over the side of the boat or being knocked off balance into the water. Luckily we got a seat up in the front of the boat, the Belle Forth. Turning around, we go back under the bridge and go under another bridge that’s just for trains. A cruise ship was in the Firth of Forth on the east side of the train bridge because it was too tall to go under and could not dock at Queensferry.  We sailed out into the Firth of Forth and saw some seals around Inchcolm Island. Really! Two of them were asleep on a buoy and one had come fairly close (40 feet away?) … his/her head looked like a dog…it was grey with dark spots and was having fun just watching us.

We sailed around Inchcolm Island with the option of disembarking for 1 1/2 hours, to be picked up by the next group. I would’ve liked to have explored the abbey and the WW2 buildings and the puffin nests (who have lilac colored eggs!) but it was lunch time at this point.  We ate the packed lunch I brought and drank a Peroni and some coffee. We didn’t get off the boat.

I feel like I’m failing to point out that this was a delightful excursion. Natalie’s enjoyment was tangible… We get off the train in Edinburgh and she exclaims “This is my home! This is my home!”. I’m thinking my kid really likes Edinburgh. I do too for that matter. It’d be nice to go back and explore it a bit more… Maybe see the castle and Holyrood.

Probably why I’ve got a bit of a negative tone in this entry is that that was also the day I threw my back out. I say “threw my back out” because that’s what I think it feels like. Went to the doctor today to double check that I don’t need medical attention (I don’t) and that was a nice experience. No copay, no paying anything. The doctor is a nice Indian man, Dr C. F. Khan. As I typed his initials I realized that he has the same as KFC. The KFC here is okay. But they don’t have the chicken sandwich. You know the one I’m talking about right? The bread is chicken.. … The meat is chicken. With some cheese, maybe. MMMMMM.

Back to my back… the old theater injury, hurr hurr durr. I wouldn’t have gone to a doctor back home normally. I’ve had twinges that burn in the muscle but they pass quickly. This has stuck around for more than 48 hours so I wanted to be sure it wasn’t a slipped disc or whatev. Fairly certain that the trigger was a combination of maintaining my balance while seated, maintaining Natalie’s balance while she’s standing on the seat next to me and then holding her weirdly while she was asleep at the Burger King in the Edinburgh train station. Serious pain folks. I was crying at one point, it was so bad. My muscles seized up and I was having trouble breathing.

I think this is typical of me. I’ve done this before: Sophomore or Junior year in high school = just sitting in the middle of the backseat between two people on our way to play mini-golf and ride go-karts at the place in Edmond (no longer there…mmmph) and I somehow pull a groin muscle. Mom was ticked at me and I laugh now but OH MY EFFING G did it hurt.  Same thing here. I didn’t do anything wrong and didn’t overly exert myself but something goes wrong anyways. Leg cramps in my calves, charley horses in calves and thighs… muscle afflictions are anathema. Even shin splints, and I’m not a runner!

Well…I’m off to do child’s pose. Here’s to the next 14 or so days… May I continue to feel better.

One of the reasons...

I didn’t update for a week is that I started volunteering at the Children’s Society charity shop on North Street in Durham. I went two days last week. It’s been fun trying to decode the accents and answering questions about where I’m from. But the biggest perk is that I’m around people. It gets me out and meeting people. I also get to observe the funner and finer elements of Durham culture, like the older man wearing a Russian fur hat complete with flaps and rhinestone brooches across his tummy.

I can’t make this stuff up. And to make it seem even funnier (even though this is a true story) I’ll tell you how I came to observe him:

A fellow volunteer*, “C”, and I were organizing jewelry at the till (cash register) when this gentleman stopped in front of us. He had at this point browsed through the entirety of the store and didn’t find anything to his liking. Except the jewelry. The two or three rhinestone pins we had laid out on the counter to be exact. He stared at those pins for a good two minutes, not acknowledging C or me at all. Then he left.

I wish he had let himself buy a pin to keep the other five across his tummy company.

Volunteer

I’m taking my application to volunteer at a charity resale shop down to the city centre today. Read an article on a teaching-job-locater site (tes.co.uk) that has made me feel a bit better about the lack of success I’ve had with jobs. I know that if I think I’m having a hard time, there’s someone who’s got it rougher:

http://www.tes.co.uk/article.aspx?storycode=6053540

So that’s not such a big deal anymore. It still is sad in some ways, for me but I want to get this emotion over and done with. I know that when I look back on the time spent here I’m going to have some interesting memories and I don’t want them tainted with me recollecting how I mooned over my old job and bleated on about not getting one here.

So here’s a fun story:

Getting Natalie ready for bed last night. This was the end of tooth brushing stage of the evening process. She likes things her way and when she doesn’t get her way, she’ll yell. Wonder where she gets it.  Natalie does like the taste of toothpaste and will more often eat it than brush with it. So I’ll brush her teeth after she’s done because I’m trying to clean her teeth after she’s done her vague attempt. I will even model the tooth brush process. This is tiresome to her and she’ll argue with me by yelling. I usually respond with drama queen comments.  this was our conversation:

“Come on drama queen.”

“I’m not a queen , I’m Natalie.”

“Well you can be a bit of a drama queen sometimes.”

“No, I’m a puppy.”

I really can’t argue with this.

Clever title

Happy Birthday Dad. Sent a couple of cards. Hope they arrive on time. 

Took another extended bus trip yesterday. This time, only had mesel’ and chose to do this on purpose. I picked the #20 bus to Sunderland. Saw some of the area that I hadn’t seen yet. Wrote a little while on the bus. There were some fairly interesting bits of architecture that I’d like to explore … A collection of imposing red brick buildings and what appeared to be (from a distance, on a hill top, through rain) ruins of a Roman-ish temple. At first, while I was on the bus, I thought I was mistaken and that it had other uses (grain elevator?) But I get to the Sunderland bus station and there’s a painting of what I saw from the bus. A temple-like building: 5 or so pillars, with lintel. But with a little rooting around on the internet, found out that it was built in 1844 in the Doric style (Greek) as a monument to the first Earl of Durham.

I got excited over a reproduction. But then again, millions of visitors to the Disney theme parks get excited over those castles, so I’m not alone.

Today, we’re shooting for Hartlepool’s Tall Ships Races 2010. It’s time we showed Natalie a larger body of water than the River Wear.

update 12 hours later: verdict- disappointing. bus ride home- horrendous. Natalie- very good.

Have learned some disturbing bits of information about the universities here… They cost £3000 a year…ALL OF THEM. Cambridge, Oxford, Durham all cost the same as say, the University of Sunderland. And that you can only apply to 6 total. So I imagine that if you get rejected by all 6 then you’re screwed. No college for you. And you can’t apply to both Cambridge and Oxford. You can only apply to one or the other, not both.

As you can see, I have learned how to put pictures in the blog only slightly. Still working on this.

Am I living in the land of the original racists?

WTF?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/newsnight/8881030.stm

Watch the video after you read the article. At the end, the journalist interviewing the multi-racial group of students asks if racism is still a problem in Oldham. The question is not shown being asked of the homogenous white group of students.

FAIL

I just want to knock some sense into their little heads.

Royal Mail service and Accents

Delivery times are variable BUT the speed by which they operate is phenomenal. Case in point, I was on the phone with the director of Off the Page yesterday around 3:30 pm about booking my spot in a workshop. Our conversation determined that a paper copy of the form needed to be sent (mailed). It arrived here today at @ 10 am. The speed of the Royal Mail service is really something special. This wasn’t the only time, either, that a piece of mail has arrived so expeditiously. There’s a current movement right now to do away with having county names in the address. This is causing some consternation for people in Essex and Middlesex

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-10825499

A side note, a book I read (or something similar) recently referred to the onset of the ZIP code. On reflection, I’m certain it was The Help by Kathryn Stockett. This book is set in 1963 in Mississippi and I liked learning that the US started the ZIP code system as late as that. It wasn’t required at first for private homes but was something that started as a way to regulate business mailings.

http://inventors.about.com/od/xyzstartinventions/a/zipcode.htm

So, the residents of certain counties here may not live in that county technically. But counties are really a lot like our states. One guy who commented on the BBC article  is a police officer and said that seeing the county name on documents helps him ‘get an idea where someone is from’.

Isn’t this familiar? Really, when you hear about what state someone is from, don’t you sort of get an idea of what that person is all about? It may or may not be a false perception of the person (Grapes of Wrath) but doesn’t it help you orient yourself on the person’s place in your idiom? I know what someone from Oklahoma, Texas, Florida, or New York might be like…but I’m having a hard time with Nevada.

I think the same thing is true here. People from this county are known as Geordies and Geordies have a reputation as supporters of Newcastle United. Northumberland and Durham are called ‘Geordieland’. Wikipedia reports a newspaper survey saying that the Geordie accent is found to be the ‘most attractive in England’. Which I find weird because I’ve met some people who’ve indicated that they find the accent harsh on the ears and really hard to understand. These people were from down South, like Bristol or London or something…I forget what.

It’s interesting to me that I can see a parallel with the US. Durham is in the northeast of the country and the accents here are harsh and quick. The further south, the accents have more of a drawl, posh-like. (author’s note: while haven’t been very far south, have met people from the south who don’t sound like Peter. Peter is the bartender with attitude and he’s got the harsh accent to go with it.) The same can be said of the US. In the northeast, you got the Noo Yawk and Noo Joisey accent that is fast and can be harsh sounding. And the farther south you go, you get the drawl and twang.

And then you’ve got Desi…who manages to combine the two in a fascinating amalgamation of sound. I dunno how she does it.

I hear that there’s betting going on about Natalie’s accent changing. I find this hilarious. Because really, she wasn’t having much of an accent to begin with. Yeh she’s going to a school where she’ll hear people talking and who’ll be talking to her, but then she comes home and I put on that twang like butter on a hot biscuit. I don’t think we’ll be here that long for a Geordie accent to really take hold but if it does, I got a fiver to put in the pot.