Wintering with the British

Wintering with the Brits,

I am depressed, I drink too much, I am ready to off myself at any moment. I am making curry noodles in my teapot, my hotel room is trashed and I don’t love Jesus. Everyone here is telling me I really fit in.  I sadly have to agree.

Three weeks before and five weeks after Christmas, I spent in the lovely Southern England villages of Haywards Heath and Brighton. After that time I feel I have become a local.

Brighton is a beautiful seafront town on the Southern English coast. Brighton offers views of the beautiful Brighton Pier and the West pier. I have been coming to this place frequently for the last 17 Years.  Guys the West pier isn’t looking any better. It used to resemble a pier, Now it looks more like a crashed flying machine that didn’t quite make it to the war in France. 

Brighton also offers ninety mile an hour winds and waves so high they splashed my forth story hotel room windows. When after a few days it suddenly drops to fifty miles an hour you feel like your having a good day.  It’s all in your “Weather Perspective”.

Weather Perspective is simply that a good day in England is better than any sunny hot day in Florida. Simple really, you don’t get that many to choose from, and the ones you get you appreciate.  After two weeks of it pissing down rain and blowing ice cold wind a perfect Saturday morning comes, You go for a walk. The sun is out, the sky is dark blue, there is light morning dew making rainbow reflections off the tall grass. Your view is of a country estate thantched roofs over red brick. Several horses are grazing in the front and the downs looming bright and green in the background.

You can see the V of Oak trees planted in honor of Queen Victoria. You ponder; I am a very lucky man to stand here in this beautiful country observing this wondrous land. This place is as beautiful as any place I have seen on earth. Then it starts pissing down rain again. “Weather Prospective” is a key to everyday happiness.  This time of year you can always say, Yeah, this is a good day have you seen the weather report for Scotland. The Scottish mentions Norway on miserable days. 

With the never ending stream of broadcast news. BBC 1 through BBC Whatever. It seems like they would have been kind enough put up a warning of impending gale force 8 winds.  Not a mention.  I was in a little pub and one of the regulars told me to be careful going home tonight, it’s going to get windy. Looking back at it I do recall he was Scottish. I had to grasp signpost and marble to make it back to the hotel. It was much like the idiots in the hurricane warnings we get here in Florida.

The trouble with the weather here it really doesn’t do anything well. Not a great job of winter, not a good job of summer.  If it snows it will be am inch or two that melts off by afternoon. If it is a sunny day it is accompanied by 30 mile an hour winds. Rethinking that statement it does grey perfectly. The British feel there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.

The British have to put up with a lot of cold wet miserable days but they vacation well. The pound is almost two to one with the American dollar. They can vacation anywhere. They pick nice warm islands or place with plenty of sun and sandy beaches.  They choose the beaches of Southern Spain, Italy and Greece.  They tend to skip over France, something about a bad history or something.   
You can always spot them on the Florida beaches, they are the ones glowing lobster red and having a great time burning to a crisp.

Times have changed, the pub culture has changed.  The places themselves have changed. It had to happen. I can’t expect them to remain quaint, dark, old mysterious places for my benefit.  As Americans we are teaching the world about capitalism. And they get it. It is sad to see but absolutely understandable. You see it in effect here. Things are getting a little more convenient. People are having babies, working more, driving nicer cars, Moving house, dressing nicer.  At what cost? The cost of a very old culture disappearing.

The whole South of England has turned into a suburb of London. In cleaning out the culture that lived in every carpet and wallpaper, every antiques and horse tack. They have cleaned out the old Briton. Sports were always on the telly and a few old black and white pictures were carelessly placed on the walls. Pictures that clearly showed the last several hundred years of change. They cleaned the history and heart out of the poor places. It is hard to find a pub where a working man can go in have a few pints, chat with a friend or two. Maybe, sit quietly in the corner and read. Maybe get into a football game. Or stand at the bar and bullshit with everyone. They have cleaned them up, fixed them up and now there full of yuppies.  Capitalism at it’s finest. 

The work here has turned into Ground Hog Day.  Every day my alarm rang at 7:00 AM I got up showered and headed down to the lobby for a choice of a complete English breakfast or a Continental breakfast. I don’t recall having a hunger for baked beans this early in the day or the repercussions of working in a small chamber with a friend later.  A good healthy breakfast of fruits, nuts and grain were available.  Speaking of fruits and nuts remind me later there is something about Brighton I should tell you.

I left for work every day at 8:00, drive the same roads, Other than arrival time depending on traffic, ice or snow.  Is it the weather that gives the people here a penchant for routine?  Just put your head down pull up your collar trudge on. It’s the British way, it works for them and they have been doing it for hundreds of years.

Lest any of you misunderstand I love spending time in a country that has such an interesting history and a culture that surrounds the world with Music, Language style of dress.  And it all conveniently fits within the borders of Ohio.

As far as world dominance, and the empire.  I don’t feel filling Captain Cooks boat full of flags and sending him around the world to stick one in every island or piece of ground he ran across as conquering the world. It does make for a good story, and we now call it history.