Darts is not a game with which my 'fellow Americans' are particularly au fait! Originating, according to all research, in very early England, it has been considered a 'pub' game, rather than a 'bar' game, and therefore, rather less sophisticated than golf, or tennis, or even snooker! However, I love a good game of darts, be it a participant or an onlooker. Dana is now very familiar with the game, and sees the players as being mathematical genii. Although the world championship game was played at the beginning of the year, we have only just got around to watching. With thousands of channels, and nothing to watch, we resorted to the the 'list' of things recorded for a rainy day!
'Home' had come into my room, through the television, with a vengeance, and I found myself using expressions, phrases, and odd adages which I have not uttered for a long time. We watched the first hour of the programme, which was mostly pre-match commentary, and then saved the rest for another time. It was enough to remind me of another aspect of home that I missed. Names, as well as places mentioned, stirred up memories. The enthusiasm of the players, each time they scored '180', was coupled with my shouting at the top of my voice, "Wuu-nnn 'undred a-nnnn ayyyyteeee!" Despite my mother being thoroughly aghast at my very interest, let alone participation, due to its 'unsavory' (in her opinion) air, I am pretty good (or was) at throwing an arrow or two!
Enthusiasm was not quelled despite the modicum of frustration, but the English accent reigned supreme. Samantha attempted to dampen my fervent ardor, but to no avail! "Don't be so over enthusiastic", she said, as we approached the check out of the HEB supermarket. An Englishman was on the other side of the counter, and although we have chatted before, we had not seen him for sometime. Rather than embrace our nationality, we all seemed to go into old-fashioned Brit mode. (I say old fashioned, because check-out personnel in my local supermarkets, at home, have questioned the nature of my well-being in recent years, and asked, "How are you?" rather than just grunt.) "Alright", he said, and I replied with equal ambiguity, "Yes, ta", and did not enquire as to his own health. Once outside, I asked my daughter what she meant by 'over enthusiastic'. She gave a demonstration. In her mind, I approach someone, get nose-to-nose, and then give a little jump, before shouting, "Hey, how are you?" Quite emphatically, I denied that my feet ever left the ground, and maintained that it would be an impossibility, given my vertically challenged stature, to actually get within a yard of their face, let alone an inch, when a two foot counter separated us. She disagreed!
We did not watch the remainder of the darts match on Monday, nor Tuesday, but the curiosity was definitely getting the better of me. We had watched a 'newcomer' surge ahead to reach the finals, against someone who had been titled the 'world's greatest ever'. The 'world's greatest ever' had been mentored by the Crafty Cockney, a nickname given to Eric Bristow, who was, my first 'world's greatest ever'. Before Eric and his cohorts, the game was televised and received a good deal of interest, but it was the players of Eric's era that became household names. Interestingly enough, the nick-name, the Crafty Cockney, came from a pub in Santa Monica, California, so I felt a liaison between my two homes!
Cockney, however, was not my accent of choice on Wednesday. Rhyming slang had been considered a helpful code when Samantha and I arrived Stateside, fourteen years ago, but we then realised that there was no need to speak in cypher, as our accent was cryptic enough! I espied a new neighbor in Randalls, our local local supermarket. Without my feet leaving the ground, I approached him to say "Hi". He looked at me curiously, and then said, "Oh the English woman, who spends the summer by the pool, with the hat". I was surprised he remembered. At our annual homeowners meeting, I had introduced myself (not that I needed an introduction, per se) as someone who 'lives at the pool in the summer', continuing with, 'if you see someone down by the pool, wearing a white cap, looking like she hasn't moved in a week, that's me!' He said that it had reminded him of the phrase, 'Mad dogs and Englishmen'. Before he could continue, I interjected that I was the 'mad dog', but he suggested a new phrase, 'mad cats and Englishwomen'. I smiled, wryly, almost ready to do a Wuu-nnn 'undred a-nnnn ayyyyteeee, degree turn, as I did not see the connection! However, always polite, I continued with the conversation. He said he had just seen another neighbour in the store, and told him that our community was rather small, and the likelihood of bumping into someone, not literally of course, (I felt my heels almost leave the ground at this point,) was quite probable! At the cash desk, I spotted the neighbour of whom he was probably talking, and waved to her, at the same time emitting a reasonably enthusiastic, "Hi", Samantha looked at me with contempt. "My feet did not leave the ground!", I insisted.
I kept up the insistence that I was rather refined, and attempted to display an eloquent diction when speaking to acquaintances. I do find myself speaking more as my mother would have wished, rather than in the 'Norf Lundon' accent that my father had perhaps bestowed upon me. We entered the car park that surrounds our office, and saw someone 'dumping' rubbish in our trash receptacle. "I do hope you are a fellow occupant!" I said reasonably loudly, but at a distance from where he probably would not have heard. I noticed that he had come from the 'ground' floor of our building, and gave him the benefit of the doubt. However, as we got nearer to him, he projected a portion of unwanted serum from his mouth, in a most ungentlemanly like fashion. Dressed in scrubs, I perceived that someone in his line of business should be more 'aware' of this kind of behaviour, especially as the news is filled with stories of 'flu season' and the large numbers of fatalities this has caused. "Was that wise?" I questioned, speaking more like the Queen than the Crafty Cockney. "Jimmy germs spread from actions such as those", said I quite emphatically. With my feet firmly on the floor, and with no intention of 'doing a Wuu-nnn 'undred a-nnnn ayyyyteeee , I continued. "Quite unbecoming as well as being rather irresponsible, don't you think?" I was quite close to the truck at the time, and must admit that my enthusiasm surprised even me, but I was in full swing! Had the man understood a word I said, I could have won with a 'nine-dart finish', but it appeared my message was said in a language he could not decipher. The look on his face was one of 'foreigner' rather than contempt! However, my daughter found this not to be embarrassing, but hysterical, and could not catch her breath for laughter!
The afternoon saw the accent take on different tones. My mobile phone rang, and I found out that I was the recipient of a prize. A meet and greet at the local radio station. Enthusiasm reigned again, as I gushed with delight and appreciation. At the same time as I said my emphatic farewell, Samantha handed me her phone. "You speak", she said, as she swiped the arrow to the right for the call to connect. Her unwillingness to talk to people on the phone is a little concerning, but not altogether surprising, as we do have to repeat ourselves several times on occasions. "Hello", I said, in a very high pitched voice, so a not to sound the same. "Hey, Samantha. You have won.....". We had both 'text'd' to enter to contest. I tried not to sound quite as enthusiastic, or use the same adjectives. In fact, I sounded somewhat squeakily underwhelmed. "Why did you talk like that?", she asked, laughing again. "I didn't want to add enthusiasm that doesn't exist!" was the retort!
Not many people were at the radio station on Friday, and the absence of one such person, whom we see at every event, made us wonder as to her health. One of the 'hosts' suggested we all think about a question to ask, as there would be an opportunity to 'chat' after the show. This was going 'live' on Face Book! You know you have arrived when you go 'live' on Face Book! We enjoyed lunch before the performance, and then sat directly in front of the artist as she performed four songs. Rozzi Crane will be a big star! I am not an expert in the world of 'pop' but I was among those who are, and they were all quite confident that she will go far! Of course, I asked a question, when prompted. After all, we were 'live' on Face Book. I asked if her she had her parents' encouragement in her quest to become a singer, and asked very clearly, very precisely, and very (in my opinion) eloquently. The 'DJ' repeated the question, and put on (in his opinion) an English accent. "You want to imitate me? Try this one for size....Wuu-nnn 'undred a-nnnn ayyyyteeee! No, thought not!" Of course I did not actually say this, as it would have been rather rude, considering we were in his home, and on his turf, so to speak! However, the question was answered, in the local accent!
On our way home, Samantha played the 'live' recording on her phone. Under the video was a comment from the 'missing person'. "I didn't know that was today", was the rather mournful remark! "Oh good", said Samantha, in her best English. "She is alive and well!"
Saturday was spent shopping, as usual. I am not quite sure what they put in the 'superbowl special' samples at Costco, but both Samantha and I came out of the warehouse in fine form! We were both speaking as if we had a plumb in our mouth, and were rather vocal in the next few stores. A group of men (who were not acting age appropriately - in my opinion) were using language that was not fit for a lady's ears. I was, for today, at least for that moment, a lady, and let out a gasp, followed by a most emphatic, clear, Queen's accented English, "I beg your pardon!" There are very few things in my current locality that stop people in their tracks more than an English accent with attitude! Wuu-nnn 'undred a-nnnn ayyyyteeee. The silence was deafening! Good job done! Nine-dart finish! I would have given someone a 'high five', but that would not have defeated the object!
We continued to watch the World Darts Championship on Saturday night, and my enthusiasm continued to grow. I was quite torn between wanting the 'world's greatest ever' to go out on a high, and win his final competitive game, or to support the underdog, a man who would probably vie for the title, 'world's greatest ever' in the future. It became obvious, after a while, that even throwing arrows can be exhausting, and time and tide waits for no man. It was time to hand over the reign to a new champion, and one well deserving of the title. I found my arithmetic gene was working overtime, as I calculated what 'numbers' were needed to complete the leg, and announced what I would have done, had it been me!
It has been a long time since I played a game of darts, and I am not sure that I would even be able to hit the board without a few practice runs. However, the sport continues to fascinate me, and the skill that is shown through the slow motion replays is quite phenomenal. The Superbowl is going to be quite the anticlimax as far as I am concerned, although I do have a 'favourite', albeit that the two teams appear to be on equal footing!
Another full week looms ahead of me, and life continues to march on. I am not sure whether I shall be a vocal, or merely a wallflower in the coming seven days, but I shall not be quiet for long, should the latter prevail. My nature does not permit this! No doubt, the Englishwoman abroad will find something that either doesn't suit her, or someone whom the Englishwoman abroad doesn't suit. Either way, it will become ........... another story!
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