Visiting historic site with an architect.

My dad's an architect. I've got him and my sister here in town (today's their last day) and when in Durham, you got to go see the World Heritage site that is Durham Cathedral.

We took the "scenic route" up the river hill, really, for the reason that if done right, the first view of the Cathedral is jaw dropping. I had the two of them stop at the alley corner to shut their eyes and then I guided them around and from under the overhanging trees so that the first thing they saw of the Cathedral was the whole of the building in all its enormity.

My sister said,

"I wasn't necessarily breath-taken, but I was astounded...but that's because my words are very rarely taken from me...because I'm a talker. And then you told me The Venerable Bede was entombed there and of course I flipped a nut."

Dad's jaw did drop, which was the reaction I wanted from him. He studied Durham as an undergrad and for him to get to see it in person for the first time was, for me, very touching. We had poignancy; it was a real moment there for me. But then he started doing this...

He took pictures of the drains. 

Who does that? My dad, that's who.

So that was the first full day...walking around the Cathedral and walking around Durham City centre. There was lunch, too. Lots of real bonding for Kiddo and her Poppa.

No really...

She wanted to be chased. Honest.

And today, on the last full day with them here, we took them to what I've been told is the best fish & chips restaurant in the region...Trencher's in Whitby.

Seafood Surprise! There was caviar! That goop on the left was crab meat... um, yum? Yes.

Um, I'm not going to bother showing you the fish and chips because you can go to your local Long John Silver's and see what it is for yourself. Also, no pictures were taken of said fish & chips. And yes, it is the best fish & chips in the region. So go there when you're in town next.

Took a bus tour and really enjoyed the commentary! Saw all this crap!

Do you see my awesome photobomb? Totally not inadvertent; I meant to do that. Just like my dad meant to derp.

And...EVERYONE got to touch the North Sea...or Bay of Whitby.

I think touching every ocean is on my dad's bucket list.

Whitby. And this is a cool picture too, because you can see the evident Human-Environment Interaction.

Whitby Abbey. The one and the same that inspired Dracula.

And because I can't ever resist teasing my dad...here he is coming out of the bus station's pay toilet after using it. Just want you to be sure that you know that.

My sister says I am turning into "British-ese if you please."  What butchering of Lady and the Tramp! She says I'm speaking like they do here. Like, "quite nice" and "brilliant" and "hiya" and that's it. And so, then...am I really 'going native' if it is just those three? 

Well, when in Rome. And Rome was burning this last week.

Survival in England 101, vol 2: If you want white cake mix...

...do not buy the Postman Pat Fairycake Sponge Cake Cupcake Mix. It is not like white cake mix in the least. My Tesco did not have white cake mix. It had brownie and chocolate cake mix...but no white mix. Heh...affirmative action for the brown mixes!

Why am I needing to buy white cake mix? To make this:

source, although I'm sure it's Martha Stewart.

or a facsimile! Because? It's my/our birthday cake! Dad and sis arrive today so I thought it'd be nice at tonight's dinner to have a fun and festively creative cake for all our birthdays...since every single one of us has a birthday in the summer: sis's is in June; mine, Kiddo's, and SciMan's in July; Dad's in August...actually it was just this past Sunday.

I have such high hopes. I mean, had. Don't worry, I'll get there. But first! The buildup! We attempted to make a Jumbo Cupcake as seen on TV! No, wait... the box says "similar to 'as seen on TV'" Oh well...mistake #1.

I read the directions; I'm not that big of an obnoxious asshole. But I may not remember all the directions.

The top and bottom did not match, size-wise. And, instead of layers, there were "swirls". And mistake #2: Forgot to spray the silicone pans with cooking spray. FML.

Taste? Eh. It went okay. It was the texture that left me in the cold, dark netherworld that is the waiting room you stay in before you get to stomp on Martha Stewart's effigy.

Sponge cake is popular here? Really?

I WANT MOIST AND DELICIOUS CAKE! I want Minnie's Caramel Cake but without the caramel!

However, I had so much fun with Kiddo and I think she had fun too.

Anyone else do this rainbow cake shit with a modicum of success or are you like me and have a nice lump of cake in the trash?

Survival in England 101, vol. 1

When we first arrived in England, there wasn't a real easy way to find out how to handle the little things in life that you'd consider necessary, like taking a shower or getting the hot water to magically appear from the spigot. We had no internet in the first few days either, so we couldn't Google it. Asking Peter (the bartender) was right out; being ridiculed by Peter for not knowing how to turn on a shower is not something one would want to experience. For being American, yes. For not knowing how to do something that should be so simple, no.

So, if you're going to move here or visit here, this might help...

The glass half door

First encounter with this interesting fixture was in the hotel we stayed in while we were looking for a place to live in 2010. It swings outward; it does NOT slide. It also does not do a whole lot to prevent water from getting on the bathroom floor either. 

Also, note the shower head fixture attached to the faucet. We've been here around three weeks (new house) and have still not figured out how to turn the shower off so that we can just run the bath. Phone calls to landlord have not been returned. Again, another example of how expectations are unfulfilled.

Here's a quick rundown of how it was...

And so, you've just arrived in a foreign country. You've got the kid fed and down for a well-deserved nap, now you're ready to scrape the grime that's accumulated over the last 24 hours of travel. You go in the bathroom for a shower and fail to find the light switch. Nevermind, you think, it's still light outside so you figure you don't really need light all that bad to wash your hair.

The new shower same as the old shower

 See that button? It says "start*stop". You press that button to start the shower. But no. It doesn't work! Fine, you think. You'll just wash your hair under the faucet like you did when you were a kid. But then, your 6'4" husband wants to shower too. Huh.

What the hell is this?

Really. "What the hell is that?", is what you think when you enter the bathroom. Is it for the light? There's a pull-cord that obviously you pull, but when it was pulled, the light didn't come on. 

Oh yeah, the light switch was on the outside of the bathroom. You ask yourself, how is that logical? If you really want to screw up someone's nighttime showering, then you could totally wreak some havoc. You kid.

Come to find out... you have to turn the shower on with this. It's the power source. Again, nothing to indicate that it has to be on in order to turn on the shower.

Because your husband is ScienceMan, he figures out the logistics of the Rube Goldberg bathroom. It only took him four  two days no time at all. (he reads this blog sometimes. shssssh)

I promise you, I'm not lazy

It's just that there's no toilet paper roll holder in the wall here or at the last house. I don't think even my friend, Sensible Lady Ruth, has one in her house. Hey all you British! Raise your hands if you have a toilet paper roll holder in your wall.

Oh, and brushing your teeth in front of a mirror? Ain't gonna happen all that often. Mirrors aren't usually over the sink...because there's a window there. And drying your hair in the bathroom or using a flatiron or an electric shaver (husband, y'all) also ain't gonna happen as THERE ARE NO ELECTRICAL OUTLETS IN YOUR BATHROOM. 


I've had damp hair for the last 14 months.

And I would walk 500 miles...

... or rather, more like 300+, just to be the mom who gives her kid a hell of a time at a favorite cartoon character's theme park. And I'd take the train instead.

Mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I said "tickets for us all to go to Peppa Pig World!" I was not disappointed. We like Peppa Pig in this house, even if throngs of little girls are threatening. Just ask Allie Brosh.

Peppa Pig World, located in Paulton's Park, is a great place to take little kids to ride rides and look at stuff, like meerkats and penguins.

Long train rides wouldn't be complete without Baby Sweetie Belle.

Representing west side or east side? I never knew which pants leg went with which direction.

 While waiting in the Balloon Ride queue (line for you Amurrcans), I couldn't help but notice some differences between British queuers and American line-uppers at a pricey theme park.

1. British families are quieter. 
2. British families are fitter.
3. British mummies bring healthy food in large cooler bags for their children to eat while waiting in the queue.
4. British daddies don't spaz out on their small children when their small children refuse to eat fruit and dump it all out in the middle of the walkway. 
5. British people help aforementioned daddy clean up the spilled fruit.

And then I got to see some differences between British social classes as a result... Later in the week, after the trip to Paulton's Park & PPW, I took Natalie to the park (two minute walk now!). There was a family there sitting at one of the picnic tables. Every so often, the fatter of the three ladies would shriek at the top of her lungs some name at random and whatever offending child that name belonged to would cease what they were doing only long enough for the lady to turn back to her family? friends? and her tab. Tab, in the northeast of England is a cigarette.

Eventually they left. They also left several empty crisps packets and drinks bottles. So, here's what I deduced from this, after (surreptitiously of course) watching them for several minutes:

1. Northern British families found in a local neighborhood park are not like the British families found in a Southern theme park.
2. Not all British families are fit. Which I knew anyway, but I'd like to reiterate this.
3. Northern British families of a certain class that can be found in a local neighborhood park don't particularly care to clean up after themselves. 
1. Understandable, since there aren't any trash cans in the vicinity and really, who wants to take their trash home? Seems like there's plenty there already.
4. Northern British daddies of a certain type do not interact directly with their progeny.
5. Northern British mummies of a certain type prefer tracksuit bottoms and hoodies for comfort wear.

Alright. Enough of that depressing shit. Back to the greatness that is Peppa Pig World!

I think there's a picture somewhere of me doing this exact thing while waiting in line for a ride at Disney Land. All kids do this. See that other kid? The one paying homage to Shark Week? Yep. Oh, here's another homage to Shark Week...


Unoriginal Source

Here we are on Peppa Pig's Balloon Ride with the ubiquitous sunglasses. I must always have my sunglasses. My Precious.

First ride on her very own! So proud that it was on George's Dinosaur Adventure.

To solo ride rides at Peppa Pig World, one must be 900 millimetres tall. Yes. That's how it was phrased on each height required panel at the entrance to every ride. 900 millimetres. This is 90 centimeters or three footlong subs from Subway (or City Bites, if that's what floats your boat. I worked there, so it don't for me).

I don't know why "900 millimetres" ticks me off. Could be that the "900" is too big a number to process or that it all seemed a bit pretentious? How the hell was I supposed to know that I needed to know my kid's height in "millimetres"? But is okay. They let her ride the ride by herself. And then because of how it was arranged, I had to ride the ride too. All by myself.

My mom was so proud.

The lovely animatronics. I had no idea that they were animatronics  because they didn't move nor did their mouths all that much. A little.  But then they did. Jerkily and in time with the audio playing. I thought it well done that it was in time with the audio.

Viking Boat swing. The best ride ever!

All tuckered out.

Going home.

One last thing... never saw a Park Worker cleaning up after patrons. Everyone cleaned up after themselves. I wish I could bottle that up and export it as supplementary vitamins. 

Good time and yes, I'd like to go back again because there's more to that park than just Peppa Pig World, like 75% more. 

Oh, and I haven't forgotten about the butcher interview. It's coming. It'll suck, most likely but that's because you didn't leave a question for me to ask him. So you won't get to have your deepest curiosity satiated. OR you could leave a question now and have it be your last ditch effort, I won't mind. 

Challenge Accepted?

Do my fieldwork for me

I'm interviewing the local butcher. My personal, very own butcher. He's beautifully cute. What question(s) would you like him to answer?

I know you want a Peter interview. It's prolly never going to happen. I'll try. Include your questions for Peter too.

Alive, alive OH!

And now I can breathe a bit. Have moved to new home and have unpacked the lion's share of the items we own. Am looking forward to getting rid of 80% when we leave for good. Really, we've too much. Have family round one here in town (village?) via France. Nice to have mom for a visit. 

And because I'm too busy to care more, here's a lovely set of pictures to tide you over until I feel like talking to you for real. Food, birthday, night out on the 'toon', and Scotland. Enjoy.

this makes...

...this. om nom nom nom.

I live here. Well, not here here, but near here. Okay, I live in a place where this is common.

Happy Birthday to the Kiddo! It was a successful party. I gave the moms each a cupcake. It was like, innovative and shit. To them, at least...like no one ever gives the mom cake. I remember the first birthday party here and that I didn't get cake. It upset me.

I got dolled up. Mom saw this picture and asked who my friend was.

Um, that's me, the "yummy mummy".

Giggity.

And this was tame. 

On the wall of the restaurant, which was inside the Victorian era train bridge. Yes, inside the bridge, bitches. So, already, had high hopes for the food in this place. The calzones were enormous and beautiful looking... 

...but I ordered this shit. Mexican risotto. Like I said, I had hopes of something good, given the menu's description of this dish. I'm ashamed to say I put half of this plate's contents into my face.

And then I realized that I didn't like it. So I stopped. Progress in baby steps, bitches.

After the meal, it was time for more immersion in the night life culture of Newcastle... #3 party town in Europe!

local lad

his friend

Angie, another local lad, and Kath. Ruth refused to be seen by my camera. Clever clogs, her.

We're brilliant.

 I just got back from Scotland too. Tomorrow, we head out for Peppa Pig World. Hey, I got a four-year old and I'm in England. It's not like Harry Potter World is anytime near in the future for me.

The Jimmie Hat. In retrospect, I should've bought it.

In the quiet car. Probably not the best location for us. That's mom on the right, friend from OK on the left. They brought the sunshine with them. 

Castle in Edinburgh

Princess Diana memorial tartan