The AoY is a bit under the weather. I have also learned that, much like a third world country, you either need to heal under your own powers or die slowly because there isn’t that much around to help you. I now feel that the British clearly do not have the same meth problems that plague America simply because they do not sell Sudafed. You can choose one of the following options to relieve cold symptoms: something nasal that supposedly cures the common cold which is interesting because scientists still have yet to identify the virus strain for the common cold; chesty cough syrup-I tried this once in an effort to make things grow larger (it did not work but tasted like shit); all manner of lozenges ranging from traditional Halls to honey; enough Vitamin C to kill elephants, or tea. They do sell Paracetamol, which is the local equivalent to Tylenol, but no Percocet or Nyquil or have any prescription meds available to you without a six month waiting period.

I must bring up the issue of tea again. Oh “VH1’s Fabulous Life in London” (we get 35 channels, I take what I can get) it is estimated that Brits drink 1101 cups of tea per person per year. You can even buy one that is diamond studded and contains diamonds in the bag for about seven thousand pounds. More money than sense, more money than sense! But I digress. As mentioned before, one of the nostrums available to cure anything short of the plague is tea. I went into a health food store and low and behold, they have tea for EVERYTHING! Looking for oolong I quickly picked up some detoxifying nettle and SlimDown tea (I think it might be more worth while to skip the afternoon biscuit ritual but that’s for a later date). British tea is like our cereal, I believe. We have every conceivable way to purge, sugar up, prevent, lower, slim, trim, boost and cleanse via grains and milk. The cereal aisle in Tesco looks like the Handy Pantry off of Highway 17 near Georgetown-you have Wheatie-Os, Cheerios, Wheetabix (if you have colon/fiber issues, this is for you), Smackie-Os, the fiber assortment and Special K. That’s it, in a giant supermarket. But the tea section, it’s like a smorgasbord of hot beverage options. I can barely get around the rows of loose, instant, pre-bagged, ball-bagged (insert giggle), hand-packed, and disc style. This subject could prove much more interesting to research at a later date but the Benadryl that I smuggled into the country is beginning to kick into effect.

Aside from the mind-boggling selection I must the flatmate’s quest for a coffee pot. While AoY loves a good double espresso or grande skinny sugar-free vanilla latte which I also feel quite smug ordering at Starbucks, coffee is on the list of banned foods. The unfortunate discovery came at a client site in Atlanta where a medium sized Dunkin Donuts coffee resulting in jittery nerves, extremely shortened patience and expanded temper-I was banned for the next three months from the store by my co-workers.

But to return, T apparently suffers no dire consequences from java and loves flavored coffee. We found a French press at Marks & Spencer’s but she really looks for the 21 cup industrial strength, ulcer-guaranteeing American coffee pot. Every store we go into that just might sell coffee pots gets examined thoroughly. I can safely report that there are precisely three coffee pots for sale in London that meet American standards. Tea kettles however, remind me of the array of nails available to manly men at the Home Depot. There are so many ways to boil water that I sometimes think the Brits are secretly conducting nuclear tests in their tea kettles. Upon our arrival our landlord assured us of two things: he had given us a new toaster and the automatic tea kettle was brand new from Argos. I personally hate the tea kettles because they make the water too hot. Microwave a cup of water for 1:33; hot enough to brew but you needn’t wait a half hour before sipping without risking your tongue lining. The electric kettles can reach lava-like temps in less than two minutes. At another client site I would constantly forget tea mugs everywhere after I had stashed them in two feet of snow in an attempt at refrigeration.

But the tea kettle. You can buy them separately, together on sale wit ha toaster, as part of a kitchen package that includes: toaster, tea kettle and spatula which apparently constitute the entire repertoire necessary for a British chef. Want a desk fan for those toasty summer months in a city without central air conditioning? Have a piping hot cup of tea to go with it from your very own kettle! Buying a new car? We’ve built the steamer right into the dash! Pay bills, win a kettle! The list continues but suffice it to say, flatmate continues to hunt for the elusive Krups 12-cup design with automatic drip and timer.

Despite feeling a bit lurghee (I’m not sure of the spelling but I am told by a Brit that it comes from the Bogeyman and is a phrase coined for those feeling groggy, stuffy and scratchy) I tried for the FOURTH time to open a UK bank account. I was highly tempted to just fly to Switzerland as they must be faster about such matter than the stalwart British. This time, fortunately, the line was down to a manageable hour-long wait and I thankfully had the right paperwork, family connections to the British mob, DNA results, and IQ to open a student account for one year. While waiting the quintessential Jappy girl from Manhattan yapped into her cell phone for twenty minutes to her daddy about setting up the account, the details, blah blah blah. It would have been tolerable but she did this while the bank rep was attempting to actually open her account. When I saw Miss New York hold up her finger to shush the woman for the second time so she could make sure that her Gold Card wouldn’t be canceled, I almost left. I was truly afraid that this lovely Brit would see my US passport and refuse to help thanks to my predecessor. Way to go Team America.

Great items of the day spotted on High Street Kensington…
-Hotel du Chocolat – If you have estrogen get to this store! Beats Godiva, Lindt or any place else in terms of whimsy, fun and price. In particular they have great gift set including a 27 piece box of chocolates that are all wrapped with individual messages of why chocolate is better than sex. One of my favorites: “Why is chocolate better than sex? Because even a small piece of chocolate will satisfy.” Genius! Another one: “Why is chocolate better than sex? It can wait until you are in the mood.” They also sold plush chocolate lab stuffed animals that made me miss Holly terribly.
-Orsino Vintage – A true vintage store that carried a great deal of Puccini from the 60s and 70s, some great Spanish shawls and Chanel bags from the 30s. Prices do reflect it but the store owner has a dog that is very cute and friendly. Looks like I will have to buy my Halloween costume elsewhere, however.
-McDonald’s – First time in three years I’ve been to McD’s for lunch and it was worth every single mile I will have to run tomorrow. ¼ pounder with cheese and a Diet Coke-doesn’t get much better than that.