a girl could get used to this
three superbowl championships in four years… can you say “dynasty”?!?!
how sweet it is!
(photo courtesy of boston.com)
exciting, informative, snarky, and very likely fabricated tales of life as an american expat in london
Like this postdeath warmed over
this sucks. I am sick of being sick. I am so bored and miserable, I could cry. I missed my concert. I have sweated my way through 5 pairs of pajamas in 3 nights. Poor j has not had a wink of sleep between my coughing fits, and my shivering and moaning, and my inferno-like night sweats. I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to watch any more telly, I don’t want to sleep, and I’ve read every book in my possession. I haven’t ventured outside in 4 days, the sight of any more putrid “lemsip” makes me want to vomit, and i am so cranky i am annoying myself. I’m usually not a bad sickie – i generally suck it up and keep going with a minimum of moaning. But this makes me want to just curl up in a ball and die. not to mention i have a shitload of work to tie up before holiday, and I’ve only got 3 days left…assuming I live to see another day at council.
i may not make it.
flu
good golly, i am sick. flu for the 3rd time in two years – I’ve never been sick so often as I have since I moved here. And we have tix to go see “cake” play tonight at the astoria – fuck. Part of me is absolutely determined to go, since I missed them the last time they came through London, and there really aren’t very many american groups I care about that put on shows here. The other part of me is alternately sweaty and freezing and thoroughly achy, especially my hips and lower back, and says “who the hell do you think you are kidding? you are too sick to even enjoy it.” I’m taking baby steps around the house like a little old lady with a blanket wrapped around me, and I think I should go to a concert?
Plus, we leave in less than a week, and I was supposed to pack this weekend – I have to pack in advance, then re-pack just before, eliminating the stuff I am never going to actually need or wear whilst we are away. Otherwise I end up lugging along 7 pairs of shoes, and a bunch of assorted other non-essentials.
When I am sick I really miss certain things from the states. Proper medicine – the strongest stuff here has paracetamol [tylenol] and decongestant, everything else has menthol and glycerine, neither of which is an actual drug. I want dextromethorphan and antihistamines – I want robitussin and nyquil and shit to knock me out at night, suppress coughs, clear my sinuses. I miss MTV – something fluffy and cheesy and ridiculously entertaining. I miss my comfort foods – last night i didn’t want to eat anything except marshmallows, and sweet j went all the way to the grocery store and got me some, but they didn’t do the trick as they were too soft and too sweet, and fucking raspberry flavoured. I miss my *things*, all the stuff that’s sitting in in my sister’s basement in boxes. Sometimes I feel like my life here is like camping – making do with what’s available, stripped down to the bare minimum.
Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me, but when I am really sick, I just want comfort, not to feel like I am just getting by. Okay, feverish whinging over…
under the thumb
The one thing I cannot stand about life in London is the hidden expense of daily living – economically and socially.
Income taxes are usually a relatively moderate 22% on the average salary. This pays for your National Insurance (social security pension, which *I* will never have the luxury of collecting), and full health insurance. Not such bad things in and of themselves, and I admit it is refreshing to walk into a doctor’s surgery or hospital, and walk out without ever having to reach into my wallet.
however there are a million other insidious ways the government takes more then it’s fair share. there’s the council tax – a local government fee which is usually £400+ per year, depending on where you live. then there’s the congestion charge – £5 a pop anytime you want to drive into the city centre during working week hours. there’s the speed cameras – £60 fine for every offense, no matter how minimally over the speed limit. there’s the parking permits, and parking fines should your pay and display ticket run out whilst you are trapped in a post office queue. there’s mot (automobile inspection fee), and road tax (registration fee). there’s the insane price of petrol (equivalent to about $6 USD per gallon!), the insane price of tobacco (equivalent to about $10 USD per pack), the insane price of public transport (how about a $2 USD bus ride, or a $16 USD daily tube travelcard), the insane price of food ($2 for a dozen eggs).
it all adds up, little by little. in the states, you can easily get by on $20/day if you are frugal. here, £10 a day is a laughable ideal. and it’s spirit crushing. for all the talk about human rights, your life is invaded at every turn. you are constantly recorded, told what is good for you, what you can and cannot do. there are millions of “traffic calming measures” like speed humps and roundabouts and buildouts (narrowing the lanes to one car width). here you can go to jail for anti-social behaviour (rowdiness, excessive noise, hanging out on street corners, general nuisance behaviour) and hate speech (racial epithets or unpopular far-right political views). anything considered unsavoury or extreme has a law against it, and there’s one CCTV camera for every 29 people in the UK.
and for all the taxes and regulation, i find little evidence of a superior quality of life. Racism and poverty and benefit fraud exist here. Crime and public safety are still a major concern of day to day life. Utilities and services are often more poorly managed (witness my rants about the tube). The uk is not any sort of utopian society.
it’d be one thing if there were measurable improvement for all the restrictions we put up with, but instead all i feel is a deep sense of disheartening disillusionment and bone-weary tiredness.
it took seven years in nyc to feel this worn out, ground down, wrung out by minor trials of daily life. congratulations, london – you’ve achieved it in two.
