And once again…we’re back!

This is not truly seven posts written in one day; I’ve just been a complete git and not posted for a few weeks and had some hard copy stuff I’m just transcribing. Pics will follow eventually.

Now before relating the last and odd series of events to occur, I must pause to continue adding to my list of ‘odd things about England’.

25(?) People are oddly confused about which side of the stairs and/or escalator to walk up/down/stand on. As I ventured off to Harrods to see a man about some shoes (to be expounded upon later in this story), I noticed that mass confusion ensues unless there are clearly delineated signs saying “Stand on Right, Walk on Left”. Now is this a function of so many tourists using mass transit, walking down city streets, going up and down the spiraling staircase of death at LSE, meandering along to the loo at bars and pubs? Could it be that no one who was actually RAISED on the ‘drive on the left side of the road’ system inhabits our fair city? Maybe, like the 98 pound Chinese girl who sits in the middle of a one butt staircase in the St. Philip’s Building every Thursday as we race to the 4th Floor for class, they have movement inertia. Regardless, I’ve developed a very good duck and weave strategy. I’ve found it SOMETIMES helps to plant your hand very firmly on the rail, perhaps lean a bit, and start trudging. Running while holding onto the rail and saying, “Oh my God, stop the Train!” might has good results although I’ve yet to seriously pursue this. Even the New York Stare (that glaring evil-eye that threatens a future stabbing in the next alley) isn’t enough at times. While I’d say 60% of confusion IS in fact a tourist problem or people like me who know better in theory but continue to use the right side of the stairs to ascend, just like driving, I remain firmly convinced that the Brits aren’t really happen living life in the left lane and that confusion/unhappiness asserts itself in their sort of deer-in-headlights snakey head-bobbing they do whilst they try to figure out whether to go left or right. For the 98 lb. Chinese girls of the world who just have no decency of giving way, I’m not hitting you in the head every week with my Longchamp because I enjoy it (okay, I do just a little)-move your ass to the chair sitting five feet away-it seriously is, she sits on the landing in the center. My larger friends have issues. I just sling a coat in her face. Go to the mattresses.
26 The Brits love numbering systems. All their world is a queue and god has given you all a number in it. There’s a numerical system at the Post Office, the bank, the blood clinic (later kids, will explain later), the doc’s office, the Career Services Center and I’m sure at the DMV. I support tickets and number systems. It keeps the world on a string, but I am still awaiting to be given a ticket to await the appropriate time to board my morning Tube.
27. Psychometric Tests – Again, more to this less but the Brits don’t ever take your resume or interview at face value. Instead you must apply, wait to be given the opportunity to take 40 minutes worth of verbal and math tests before ever seeing an interview. Or it’s two phone interviews followed up by 1 or 2 DAYS at a testing facility at an undisclosed location. That’s quite scary. At least interview me and hire me based on personality and looks-if I suck at my job, you only have your narcissist and elitist tendencies to blame!
28. Limescale-Yall still can’t solve. Me and my battered skin thank you. I live to see chalky white particles floating up in my water or hot water that remains milky or “fur” in the tea kettle, perma-scrum in the shower and the most aggressive mold growth known to man. Stop bickering over Scotland. You have bigger problems.
29. Last one (if I ever repeat an oddity, call me on it; I can find more). You must buy your ‘seats’ for the movies. Not just tickets, but you must actually book where in the theater you wish to sit and someone will either show you the way or you must find it yourself and God help you if you screw up. There are Premium seats that cost extra. I noticed this when G* and I went to see “Blood Diamond” the other night. Awesome, AWESOME movie-Leo, you are forgiven for Titanic, finally. Sorry, have a pleasant interlude where Leo expresses his gratitude for forgiveness…anyway, rather than locate our seats up in the rafters we sort of snuck in and to the side (I was 4 minutes late, as usual). We both noticed our knees being chewed upon by the seats in front but ignored it until the movie began. I think G had either run a marathon or was avoiding becoming a eunuch but I had no issues executing a straddle and jump to the “Premium” row behind us. A scuffle broke out during the previews because one group was in another group’s chairs. OH NO YOU DIDN’T! It’s a movie, folks. Relax, enjoy, eat the shitty popcorn (old gum, best described as old reheated gum collected from the chairs after the last movie).
30. Pay bills at bank. I actually love this. I paid my Council Tax (the tax to live in a flat and pay rent) by handing a slip of paper to a teller. No muss, no fuss, no stamp required.

Hmm this list went on longer than expected. Okay next entry has updates!