As I have said before, it’s been a long time since I’ve lived in the UK. I am ill equipped to provide a well rounded English education for the American Mr T, who seems to have an inexhaustible list of questions on a daily basis. Many of which I’m not sure I ever knew the answer to, and certainly don’t now. 

Here’s a random selection of questions, concerns or bafflements from the past few days:

Depressing Christmas tunes - in America, the favourite tunes involve white Christmases, ruddy nosed reindeer, jingly bells and so on and I love them all. But in England, we like a little more gritty realism. One of the most popular tunes is about an argument between a man and woman, he calls her an old slut, she calls him “a scumbag, a maggot, a cheap lousy faggot” and then utters the immortal lines “Happy Christmas your arse, I pray god it’s our last.” Festive gold right there. I love the song. Can’t get enough of it. And I cry laughing every time I try and explain it to Mr T. The other big Christmas number is about famine in Africa. A tune with lines about the “bitter sting of tears” and the “clanging bells of doom.” In all seriousness, “Do They Know It’s Christmas” by Band Aid is a great song for a good cause and has raised millions of pounds for charity. The target was to raise £70,000 and instead people gave £8 million. And that’s why we love it so much. Even Mr T is singing along with it now. 

Video did not kill the radio star - Radio might be dying elsewhere, but it's alive and kicking in the UK. I’ve always had a special place in my heart for the wireless, and I enjoy English radio most of all. Since we arrived, I’ve had it on constantly (BBC Radio 2, since you asked). And I’m not alone. Millions of my fellow Brits phone the radio station every day to make song requests, give shout outs and take part in quizzes. This doesn’t seem at all unusual to me, but it’s a mystery to Mr T. 

Him: “But you can stream any song you like, at any time. Why ring up and request a song that you can play any time?”
Me: “Because…it’s…well, you know…ummm.”
Him: “It makes no sense. Who does that?”
Me: “I have. A few times. I would now probably. Actually, pass me the phone.”

One particular thing that’s unfathomable for Mr T is why would you want a signed photo of a radio DJ? Yet people do, in their thousands. We’ve heard it numerous times since we’ve been here. I’m at a loss to explain it. 

Calendars - I’d forgotten about the tradition of buying calendars for people at Christmas. You can literally get a calendar for any interest. There are whole shops in the shopping center that just sell calendars, but at this time of year pretty much every shop is selling them. There’s one for every sports team you could hope for and more besides. Inspiration quotes galore, of course. But there’s more interesting options too. Does your Auntie Bessie like chickens? Terrific, you can get her the 2018 Extraordinary Chickens calendar. Like yoga? Yep loads of yoga pose calendars too. Do you like dogs, cats and cows? There's millions of those. What about dogs, cats and cows doing yoga? You betcha! (I swear I’m not making this up). The whole of Britain must buy calendars between November and January.  I used to get at least one every year as a present. In fact, I quite miss having one now I think of it. I think I’ll pick one up on my next shopping trip. 

Shopping trolleys (carts for the Americans) - these are not free in the UK. You can’t just go grab one and do your shopping. You’ll need a pound coin for the slot to free them from their chain and take them into the shop. And you get your pound back when you return it at the end of your shop. I don’t know why this ever seemed normal to me but it’s a right pain in the arse. Do people really steal that many trolleys? I guess they must do.

Salt and Shake crisps - growing up, we used to have crisps (chips for the Americans) that would come with little packets of salt inside. You open the bag and sprinkle on the salt then shake the bag. Cryptically they are called Salt and Shake. I love them, my parents love them. Indeed they are historic crisps, with the first bag being sold in the 1920s. Everybody loves them. Mr T is baffled.
Him: “They are DIY chips? I don’t get it.”
Me: <shaking my bag vigorously>
Him: “Why would you want to do it yourself?”
Me: <still shaking>
Him: “They’ll be asking you to fry the bloody things yourself next.”
Me: <now I have a bag in each hand doing the cha cha around the lounge>

And finally, service/petrol/gas stations are currently the bane of Mr T’s existence. There seems to be some additional level of confusion every time he goes into one. First, he was indignant that you have to go into the shop to pay. Everything is so easy to pay for in England, Apple Pay is taken just about everywhere and contactless cards are massive. So, he quite rightly asks, why have petrol stations been left behind? I have feeling it’s to do with credit card fraud so you can’t pay with a card, and you can’t do phone payments as you don’t want all the mobile phones around the explosive stuff. Who knows why. Next, there was bemusement as to why they don’t have latches on the pumps, so you can leave it to pump itself and get back in the car as you do in the US. Doesn’t sound like a big deal, but when it’s a wind chill of -9 outside, it is rather nice to get out of the stiff breeze. That was followed by the hilarious moment when Mr T thought he’d put a full tank of diesel in the unleaded hire car. Fun fact, unleaded is designated by a green label in the UK. In the US, green means diesel. I think we can all agree the UK has it right my friends, the whole world denotes green as environmentally friendly. What, pray tell, is green about diesel?

Then there’s the utter exasperation about motorway services and the correct way to get in and out of the refueling area - we’ve had a few goes around different roundabouts on that one. And the more it goes on, the funnier it gets (well, for one of us at least!) I almost look forward to filling up now for the hilarity that will ensue. If you’re on the roads in Kent, steer clear of the car going around the services roundabouts on two wheels with a red faced American in the driver’s seat shaking his fist.

There you have it, that’s just a small selection after the first two weeks. I’ll be sure to continue documenting Mr T’s immersion in English culture, assuming he doesn’t flee the country at the next petrol station encounter!