I have had one of those infamous “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad” days. This sort of bad day and bad mood seems to make me feel extraordinarily American. I guess it’s homesickness really. It’s not that I’m more American than I was yesterday, but the negativity makes me crave and seek out comfortable American things. I’m a bit sunk because my American friends here in England are all out of town at the moment, although my great hope is for next Saturday: the football game (real football, not soccer) for my beloved alma matter (Michigan State) is being broadcast and a group of UK-based alumni are meeting up to watch it. So that is definitely something to look forward to. Go green!
In the meantime, I have discovered a bizarre little factoid. I was hankering for a glass of really bold American/Californian chardonnay (Fess Parker came to mind). But there is no such thing to be had in all of my immediate English vicinity. They have plenty of new world wines but exclusively of the antipodean sort, and apparently “french oaked” wines are nothing like American oaked whites. I had a lovely conversation with the wine shop guy, who knew exactly what I was looking for and did his best to make a nice recommendation, but it was clearly not an easy thing to find. So much for globalization.
However, my next stop after the wine store was much more straightforward. That’s right, my ornery American self stopped off in McDonalds for french fries. That will cure any misery, right?
The sad thing is that unlike Alexander, I don’t think there would be any improvement in my circumstances by moving to Australia. Somehow I think that would be similarly un-American and waaaay too similar to England. For now I will just have to tough it out here.