The week kicked in with the force of a 'buckaroo', and I was in full swing 'English'. It had been an interesting weekend, and my 'impulsive' purchase was sitting in its box. I bought a Vitamix machine. Did I need it? Probably not, but the lady promoting the blender did a very good job, as most promoters do, but it was the 'soup' aspect that sold me. She put all the ingredients into the 'pot', gradually increased the speed, let it run for six minutes, and the liquid came out hot! My last 'impulsive' buy was my chest freezer, and I have been freezing anything and everything instead of letting food go to waste. However, I digress, slightly. Instead of freezing the aged vegetables in my fridge as is, I can now make them into hot soup, drink some and freeze the rest! It appealed to my increasing sense of frugality. The lady who was promoting the blender was quite chatty, as everyone left the area. She commented that we did not sound 'local', and she was also not from the state of Texas, but loves Austin. Asking how long we have been here I responded that it was nearly fifteen years. "And you still have such a strong accent. I try and copy accents, but my Australian is not very good". No longer do I get upset. "Well you wont offend me if you try!" I said. "This machine is made in the USA. In Ohio!" she responded. I resisted telling her that Ohio was not technically part of the Union, due to a technicality, but that fact is for another time! Instead I told her that if she ever got the chance to visit London, she should go. Confusion crossed her face, and she still did not get the connection! All this to say that I bought the blender, and what was more I took it out of the box within the week, rather than leave it in the cupboard for eighteen months, not willing to open it for fear of having to read the instruction leaflet!
A young man entered my office on Monday morning, carrying a box which said, 'Pizza'. My face, I could feel, was the picture of confusion. "Did you leave that one out?" I almost said, wondering why he would come in with a lone box. Perhaps there were seven boxes to be delivered last Friday and one got misplaced. However, he walked up to me, hesitantly, and put forward the box. "We, um, have just, um, opened a new store. I have brought you a sample". It appears he had, indeed, just opened a new store not far from our office, and was promoting his wares. I accepted graciously.
Lunch was not pizza. It was tacos. Grant, Samantha and I went to the radio station for a live broadcast. Pete Yorn was on stage for a somewhat unorthodox performance, where instead of having songs prepared, he asked the audience what they wanted to hear, and we were encouraged to chat back and forth. I did not chat back and forth as I was not as familiar with his work as were most, but I did get the opportunity to thank him. "I appreciate the opportunity to come and see you", said I, in the best English accent, without a hint of "G'day mate!"
My passion for my heritage was somewhat challenged on Wednesday. Perhaps 'challenged' and even 'heritage' are not the most precise of words in this situation, but I will leave it to you to decide! "What tea do you drink?" asked Grant, as we sat around the dinner table. I told him that when possible, I only drink PG Tips. (A brand that is extremely well known at home.) "What is PG Tibs?" asked his mum, who was sitting to his side. "Oh, it's like our Lipton". My face must have formed the expression that is synonymous with mothers who are about to tell their children they have done something wrong. "It is nothing like your Lipton", I said, with such authority and decisiveness, that Grant went, "ooh!" I started to laugh. Everyone else in the room was looking, wondering what was going to come next. I felt it pertinent to explain the difference in teas and found myself getting deeper and deeper into the mire!
Dana came into the room, having missed the whole episode and started to eat dessert. "This is really good!" he said, after taking a mouthful of strawberry tart. "It is very fresh, and not too sweet. Must be the creme fraiche!" I shot him the same look. "What is creme fraiche?" asked Grant's mum, looking at me as if to ask if it was okay to ask. "Oh it's the stuff under the strawberries", said my husband, with a great deal of authority. "That!" I started, and could not stop myself. "That is patisserie cream. Not creme fraiche!" The sound "ooh" came from Grant, who then added, "Like Lipton is not tea?" I have to say, I could not stop laughing. Although outnumbered, six to one, I did not feel defeated.
The story of the tea made its way around the office on Thursday, and I still did not feel defeated, although I am not so outnumbered. Two English woman can seem like an army!
I was most surprised on Friday, as I always thought the 'Midwich Cuckoos" were English. (Or at least one group!) When two children entered my office on Friday afternoon, I was a little perplexed. A knock on the door was followed by said door opening and two faces appeared, one above the other. "Hello", I said. "Hello", said the smaller of the two short people. "My name is Uriah....". I missed his last name. "And my name is Jeremiah....". Again, I missed the last name, as I was wondering why these children were not accompanied by an adult and what they wanted, as the older, or taller, of the two was holding a clipboard. "And we are doing a bike ride.....". Now I got it. They wanted me to sponsor them! I am not averse to sponsoring for a good cause. I am not averse to sponsoring children. I remember going door to door with raffle tickets for my school, when I was a child. Admittedly, my mother did not like the idea, but we were encouraged to sell as many as we could. However, we did not have a script, nor were we told to play on the emotions of those to whom we encountered. When asking for sponsors, the choice of how much to give was up to the person giving. "We are looking for kind, people, generous people, to help us on our way. Please would you be kind and help us". The joint pleading was a little unnerving, as these two kids sounded like old men! "......$40 each", was the amount they were asking. I did not interrupt, but at the end, politely, and kindly said, "No. I will not". I did not apologise. I did not drag them outside and show them the 'No Solicitors' sign (which my husband said I should have done, so that they know for future reference, and if they did not know what it meant, to explain) as I thought that should be shown, and explained to the parent, or youth leader or whomever else was suggesting they go to every office and ask for help. They left, telling me that it was 'okay' that I did not want to help. I am still not sure who, or what it was that I had refused to help, which perhaps seems a little harsh, but policy is policy! No sooner had they left, did Samantha and Grant run into my office and ask, "Who was that?" They had heard the schpeel and said they thought it was an acting group! As they headed out, there was another knock on the door. "Hello", said a young girl. "My name is Veronique, and I am asking ........kind..... generous.........help....... $40.........". It was 'okay' that I did not want to help. The children continued to run up and down the corridors of our building. I stood, in my 'school secretary' stance, with the glasses on the end of my nose, and starred, in my 'Mrs. Scott' stare. (Have I mentioned Mrs Scott. She was the school secretary at my 'primary' school, and no one instilled more fear than Mrs Scott! Appearing to be at least ten feet tall, her jet black, but greying hair scraped back into a French pleat, half moon glasses on the tip of her nose, and shrill voice, she caused us to freeze by simply looking our way!) The Texan cuckoos left the building! Thank you Mrs Scott!
"They were scary!" said a resident of our building, as she spoke to her colleagues as they walked outside. "I know. It was like their speech was scripted", said another. "They were like, weird. And one after the other, they kept coming in!" said the third. I can only assume I was not the only one who was unnerved by the children!
"Fish and chips" was my answer when Dana asked what I wanted for dinner. I really just wanted to go home and sleep for a week. "Malt vinegar", I said when the waitress asked if there was anything else she could bring. "Huh?" she said. Can't put anything else on chips! "Huh?" Lipton doesn't make vinegar as far as I am aware!
The week came to an end, and I was ready for a break. It had been a particularly busy week. Besides educating people in tea, culinary properties, basic behaviour, I also had to work! All I really wanted was a quiet, relaxing weekend. What happened next is ........... another story!
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