roughing it

for a change-up, we decided to take an old-fashioned weekend camping trip to the Yorkshire Dales National Park. we found a perfect little campground about 15 miles up a dead-end, 4-meter-wide country lane in the middle of Nidderdale (nidd being the river, dale being a very, very steep valley).

it was the end of the road, literally. after passing charming farm after charming farm, we climbed up a 25% grade to Middlesmoor village where there is a sign that says beyond here "road not suitable for motor vehicles." although there were two pubs within walking distance and our campground had electricity, a shower room, and a hair dryer, we really were remote for british standards. there were no shops, supermarkets, petrol stations, or services of any kind for 15 miles. that's a big deal for a country where at any given moment you are always within 70 miles of the sea.

our camping neighbors commented on their love for camping and yorkshire, but it was too remote. too barren. too desolate. there wasn't even cell phone coverage. yeah, if you're from anywhere else on the island, this place was a right boondocks.

so, you can imagine our absolute astonishment when, as we were setting up our tent, a big blue van pulled in the campground and stopped across from us near tent pitch #17. the van was, no kidding, a grocery delivery van from Tesco Direct. the driver hopped out and began unloading a BBQ grill, beer, and probably some milk, eggs, bread, tea, a take-away tandoori dinner, an evening newspaper, and God-knows what else! roughing it FAIL.

after growing up in a land where camping means a 30 to 60 minute drive off the side of a mountain, or at the very least a Forest Service campground complete with picnic tables, a hole in the ground for pooping, and a honesty box for paying the fee, i was shocked and amused by Tesco's appearance in Nidderdale.

that night, as we sat around our (highly against the rules) campfire/cooking fire eating our home-packed meals and drinking our ice cold ale, we kept hoping that we'd see the Domino's man pull in next.

a-ha moment

"so," says dan, "some people really do live in Glasshouses...."

and there were plenty of stones around for throwing.

we figured it was better than living in Blubberhouses, a presumably slimy village a few miles in the other direction.

island fever

most of the time i love living the historical and charming expatriate life. but lately i've been feeling the need to lemming myself off the white cliffs of dover. maybe it's the mid-60s-partly-cloudy-cool-breezy perpetual spring we have suffered all summer (and last year, and the one before that). maybe i am tired of feeling socially claustrophobic and professionally invisible. that could be, too. but i know part of it is simply because the british are infuriating.

i made an order from Amazon.co.uk for school books. i thought the mailman would just hide them in the bushes or give them to my neighbor if i wasn't home.

not the case.

i called to have them re-delivered for when i would be home.

"I need to schedule a redelivery"

"Ok, how about Monday?"

"Sure, what time?"

"Well, our deliveries can be from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., but I can't give you a specific time."

"So, you want me to stay home and miss an entire day of wages for a package that is not even worth half that much because there is no specific times?"

"Well, last week he delivered at 10 a.m., but I can't guarantee it would be the same driver or the same route."

I thought, "Wow. Hi, I'm Earth, have we met? Can you book me a flight coming back from Chicago?" But I said, "That's very helpful information. Can the next driver just leave them in the bushes or on the steps?"

"No. It is a signature required package, or he can leave them somewhere secure, like a garage."

"So, I should un-secure my garage so someone can stop by and steal my $1,500 worth of bicycles so a stranger can go in and drop of a package worth 80 DOLLARS?! Why don't I just unlock the front door and leave it open for him"

"Oh, that wouldn't be a good idea."

Really?!?!?!?!?!

and last month I e-mailed stupid BT (british telecom, nightmare-ville) because we'd gone "paperless billing" and when i logged in, there were no paperless bills to view. my e-mail was something like, "I logged in and clicked 'view bills' and there were no bills to view. Can someone post me or e-mail me copies of our last three bills?" the response: if you've forgotten your password, please click the link below to reset your password so you can log in. YOU IDIOT!!!! I said "I LOGGED IN" how the hell did i send you the freakin' e-mail in the first place if i wasn't logged into my stupid account?

it is everywhere, this lack of basic common sense and customer service. i was reading the newspaper the other day and the post office workers were on strike. protesting "modernisation." they fear change. that, alone, tells you what kind of culture we're living in.

a friend likened the british bureaucratic attitude as that of a crowd of zombies. they follow the rules. they don't get outraged. they don't want to modernize. they don't seem innovative. they move VEERY slowly. they eat flesh. (no, they don't eat flesh! gross.)

i definitely miss the American, land of the outraged, customer-is-always-right, do it bigger-better-faster, bend-the-rules-to-make-it-happen, attitude. now i just hope it can live up to the high standards i've set for it when we have our grand homecoming in one short year.

it's a girl!

we would like to announce the arrival of the newest member of our family, HRH Queen Elizabeth "Lizzie" Harper....

we were feeling the need to tend to something more animated than our herb garden. i thought it was my maternal instinct kicking in, but when she woke us up at 5 a.m. i was really glad that i could toss her out the door on her little furry butt. hack!