A simple poll:

For what reason would you drive 1.5 hours to visit someone you met once during an evening with friends, two months ago?

Now, what if you had planned the evening out with this person, then canceled the morning of because you seriously injured your leg and were to stay off of it for the next two weeks, but then you drove down anyway to just hang out with them at their house? Wh-wh-wh-why would you do that?

Shpider! – He is our hero.

I have only been in the UK now for a few days, but it feels like a week or so. Time passes slowly with no work yet and with no money to help spend the free time. Here now, six hours ahead of what I am used to, I find myself still struggling to adjust my sleep cycle. I stay up far too late unable to sleep, I wake in the middle of the night, have more trouble still falling back to sleep, and finally sleep far, far, far too late in the morning – until it is almost no longer morning. In addition, sleeping in a double bed is huge. Having only light blankets and not my usual pillows, I can’t seem to ever get comfortable.

This evening began as any other – a quiet meal with my roommate after walking about town all day completing errands. I then retired to my room to play on my computer for far too long. Actually, tonight I started out editing a playlist for a CD which I will burn shortly, and then on to The Sims 2. Once the game had crashed on me for the second time, I gave up on it, recognizing the hint to go to bed. I turned to reading to still my mind before sleep. Exhaustion near overtaking me, as I struggled to finish the section of my book, I glimpsed a movement from the corner of my eye. Glancing over, expecting nothing – this was just another phantom cat (I’ve discovered after over a decade of living with cats and their penchant to move about unnoticed that now when away from them, I still see phantom shadows move catlike at the edge of my vision), I instead was startled to see scuttling over my beige carpeted floor (and please do excuse the profanity here, but I feel it’s warranted) THE BIGGEST FUCKING SPIDER I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!!! Seriously, this thing was long and spindly and easily the size of a half-dollar. It was HUGE and I mean FUCKING HUGE – again please excuse the profanity, but this...this...it was big. “It’s like Sputnik; spherical but quite pointy in parts.”

Forcing myself to stay calm and collected, I got up off the bed as he settled down next to my powered-off laptop. I cast about my room and seeing nothing suitable to scoop him into (being always unwilling to kill arachnids – especially effin’ huge ones), I calmly trotted downstairs to collect a mug and small plate from the kitchen. Coming back upstairs, I see he is still nestled next to my computer. I ducked into the bathroom to open the window so as to dispose of him quickly. Back into the room, and now he’s gone. I gingerly poke at some plastic wrappings. I gently move my backpack aside. I push my computer a bit with my foot. Nothing. Then I spy him now resting between the wall and my old book of checks. Deep breath in. Quick release out. Right, time to catch a (big, effin’, huge) spider. I tap his nest with the plate, trying to edge him towards the mug. He scuttles left, scampers right. I let out a fevered moan in an attempt not to scream like a 50s housewife and waken my roommate. I chase him with the flatware but he disappears under my bed. Now there’s not much to under my bed. It’s one of those box-springs that has storage drawers in it. So, really, we’re talking maybe and eighth of an inch clearance off the floor if that. I pause for a moment considering. Ah, I think I see him just under the lip of the bed. A quick glance at the tools in my hands, I try to scrape the plate along the under edge of the bed to scoot him out from under and into the mug. This fails. He retreats further underneath where my ministrations cannot reach him. *narrows eyes* Wily devil.

I hang my head, close and lock the bathroom window, and head back downstairs to return the dishes to the kitchen, praying that he will stay away from me while I sleep, wondering how I’m possibly going to sleep knowing this satellite sized spider is chillaxing under my bed. As I come back up stairs, I notice a little knobby shadow under my bed. I creep back down a step. Yep, it’s him. That’s right. This spider is so big he’s casting a SHADOW I CAN SEE UNDER MY BED FROM THE STAIRS! I dart back downstairs to retrieve the mug and plate. Back up – wait, check, yeah, he’s still there. And into my room, once more into the breach. I don’t see him. I creep back down a few stairs – yes, there he is. I wait. He moves a bit closer to the edge of the bed. I wait. I have watched my cats stalk plenty of prey (usually in the form of leaves blowing on the wind, but the principle’s the same). I wait, silent and ready. He moves out from under the bed and rests against some random crap I have strewn on my floor (hey, I did just move in three days ago!). I creep back into the room - really he’s pretty unaware of me. Too big to be on his scope? In any case, he does see the mug coming as it closes down on him and he moves just in time to get a few legs caught under it. Wincing, I quickly lift-move it to one side so he is not pinned but is trapped under it. Right. Spider caught. Now for the removal. Into the bathroom to open the window again, this time peering my head out to be sure there is a ledge for him to land on so he doesn’t fall two stories to his death. All good, there’s a ledge. It’s kinda dirty and gross, but it’s outside, so that’s OK. Back to the mug covered arachnid. I scratch my head pondering the best way to replace the floor with the plate in my hand. I gingerly tilt the mug up, sliding the plate underneath and with a scraping motion I successfully scoop mug and spider onto the plate. Again, catching his legs momentarily under the mug. Poor guy, I’m beginning to feel bad for him now. I carry the contraption out to the bathroom window and open, and plop out falls the spider onto the ledge. I quickly pull the dishes back inside with a quick inspection to be sure they are indeed critter free. I rest them on the ledge and pull the window shut and locked. Phew. No more spider in my room. But now my heart is pounding. How am I ever to get to sleep now?

I deposit the dishes back in the kitchen, on the ‘dirty dishes’ side of the sink. I will wash them after I wake. I go back up to the bathroom, this time for its intended purpose. While there, I think I can make out the spider’s form lying sideways on the ledge where he fell. I hope he’s just stunned. I hope he’s not still there in the morning.

I’m riled. But my roommate is asleep, as would be any other person I might happen to know in the UK. Ah, but my friends in MN and the rest of the US, they’re probably still awake! I could call one of—no, I’ve got less than a pound’s worth of credit on my phone right now. I can’t call. *sigh* So, I prepare this blog instead. Now, it’s 3:17am which means it’s 9:17pm at home and a certain someone should certainly be home from work and I could call him. But I won’t cos...cos...cos I’d only get to maybe say hi before I get cut off due to the lack of minutes on my phone. :( Ah, well, I’ll be fine. And it’ll probably be a few days before I get my blog set up, write the first entry (this is the second, see, I’ve been composing what I want the first to say in my head already), and get it posted, email its existence to those who may care, and then go back to add the hyperlinks and finally post this entry for you all to read. ;D

Now, every brush of my pajama bottoms against my legs, every touch of hair against my face, feels like a spider crawling. I feel the creepy crawlies everywhere.

I will now go cry myself to sleep on my huge pillah.

Quietly Overwhelmed

It is the first Wednesday afternoon since my arrival in the UK last Saturday. I have had four days to attempt to get my bearings and adjust to life here. That progress, however, is slow moving, I fear. I know I know, it all takes time. Doesn’t mean I can’t want to have it done now, yes?

Let’s see, the purpose of this blog was to compare the differences between the US and the UK. Specifically in terms of the education systems, but, well, let’s start with the basics of living.

The clime:
I have to say that so far I really love the weather here. It feels like pleasant fall weather to me. Cool but not cold, and even only chilly in the evenings. Usually the skies are filled with clouds (which I fully enjoy), but there have been hours of sunshine and blue sky, as well. As we’ve been walking around, at first glance it seemed that the local foliage was generally the same as at home. Upon further, closer inspection, I discover that they’re really not. The trees seem the same, but then I peer in to identify it and I realize I’ve no idea what kind of tree it is. There are lots of pigeons who make lots of noise and other animals. Currently, there is a dog in a neighbouring home who will not stop yapping. L Some things never change.

The people:
I’ve not really interacted with the people here too terribly much, but from what I can tell they are very friendly and helpful. Not really that different from what I’ve experienced from strangers in other parts of the world as well. From time to time, I am struck by a sense of delight upon hearing all the voices I here around me are British. I don’t think I’ve heard another American accent since leaving the airport. My roommate, Claudia, has a similar accent being from Canada, but there are subtle differences. We were in a nice little place called The Light Lounge yesterday (they’ve got free Wi-Fi, woo!) and a sort of blues/jazz duo was playing. Listening to them play Route 66 and similar songs, I commented on how voices in song seem to all sing with the same accent. The singer sounded as if he could’ve been American; it was only when he’d speak between songs that his true nationality was obvious. In general, walking around, it seems that the crowds are mostly the same. There are all shapes and sizes here and I suppose on average they are better dressed than in the US, but not by that much.

The shops:
While there isn’t a Target, Walgreen’s, or Best Buy anywhere, there are Argos, Primark, Boots, and Tesco’s around. There is also a Dominoes, Starbucks, Subway, Pizza Hut, and other familiar names. The closest grocery store to our house is actually a large supermarket, which, though I probably shouldn’t, I have to admit I find rather comforting. Unlike Minnesota, but like most any other state in the Union, there is a liquor store as part of the supermarket. I looked through it briefly while I was there last. There is a Scotch, which may or may not be any good, called Monkey Shoulder and I’m looking forward to sharing that (I’m looking at you here, Nicole). There is a nice big indoor mall within walking distance to us called Festival Place with a sort of open air mall leading up to it (and yes, the mall has a Lush store in it). Walking out the other side of the mall, you move into the shops in the town’s centre. That’s where The Light Lounge is, and a McDonald’s, the town Museum and theatre (the cinema’s in the Mall). The town centre is a cute little area. The shops here tend to group up, which is handy for pedestrian consumers. For example, we went to our letting agency yesterday, and the entire row of shops on both sides of that street were all letting agencies. It seems kind of strange, but upon further thought, it makes sense. That, in fact, may be the biggest difference. While I can’t speak to other towns in England yet, I notice that here it seem easier to get around by bike or foot power than by car. There are dedicated footpaths and beautifully muraled tunnels under the major roads for pedestrians. Unlike in the States, where they seem to want to punish the person who tries to get about town on foot.

Overall, I’d say that while the little things here may be different, it adds up to the same larger picture. Some things are very comfortingly different, and some things are disturbingly similar. *shrug* I just wish we could internet set up at home already. J

Preface

Right. So, I get that I'm not actually teaching in London. But in order to make the play on the movie title I thought it best to just change one word. Teacher = werewolf. That's about right anyway, innit?

Technically, I'm living in Basingstoke and teaching in Farnborough. Nothing's started up yet so I'm sure there'll be more later.

Welcome all to my blog!