David's
Mental Meandering 31st August 2000 Yes, it
is the last of those hot August days in the UK, with temperatures soaring into
the 70's. And some of you wonder what is so great about Britain. In
my earlier Meanderings, I have concentrated on the many shortcomings of this little
socialist island nation. You may be wondering why I would want to live here. Well,
here are a few of the good things: It is football
season again. Yes, that's "soccer" to you. What's better about this
kind of football, as opposed to American football? For starters, the length of
the season. In the States, football begins in September and for all practical
purposes ends the first of January, with play-off games stretching it to the end
of the month. Here the season starts in August and ends in May, with various international
matches played during the summer. There are league matches virtually every Saturday,
with some thrown in during the week. And if that isn't enough, there are various
cup competitions as well. Football here lasts
two hours, rather than three. Yet there is 90 minutes of playing time rather than
60. This means that in soccer, most of the time is spent actually playing the
game. And all of the players actually touch the ball. Its not the same guy over
and over deciding which of two or three players will actually do something. It
is also accessible. In the decade I lived in Indianapolis, I never attended a
Colts game. It was just too expensive. For many other Americans, it is just too
far to travel as well. Here there are 92 fully professional teams and another
22 are semi-professional in a country the size of Arkansas with the population
of California. Sure tickets for Premiership (the top division) matches are a bit
steep, but I can watch my local team for £10. The
only down side is the television coverage. Whereas you can watch between three
and five professional football games on broadcast television each week, in the
UK that number drops to zero. The broadcast rights here are owned by Sky, a cable
and satellite group of channels. And unlike the States, not everyone here has
cable. Our closest access to satellite is with Mrs. Holford's grandparents and
they are not big football fans. But then again, neither is Mrs. Holford. Last
weekend I got to see some football on the satellite while everyone else watched
the omnibus of this week's episodes of Eastenders on the aerial. I like Eastenders,
but not nearly as much as football. I didn't get to see the whole match, because
we had to leave to get back to Hereford in time for Mass. This isn't a lot of
TV football, but if I was in the States, I wouldn't get to see this kind of football
at all. But enough about the beautiful game.
I could devote a whole series of Meanderings to it, but I will spare you. I won't
even start on Cricket or Rugby. There are other good things about Britain. The
British are not best known for their culinary delights, but if I had to move back
to the States some of the things I would miss most are consumables. The first
of these is lemonade. No, not the Kool-aid variety, nor the home-made kind. This
is a carbonated drink. And no, it's not Sprite. Well, it is closest to Sprite,
but without the Lime. The best thing to do with
lemonade is to mix it with squash. No, not the yellow vegetable or any of its
cousins. Squash is a drink concentrate, mixed with water or as I prefer,
lemonade in a 1:5 ratio. I'm having some even as I type. Squash is invariably
in fruit flavours, often in a combination. The greatest of all squashes is Ribena,
which comes in that most British of flavours, blackcurrant. I
will skip over that most important of all British beverages. Tea is a topic that
deserves a much more thorough discussion. I will mention it only as the perfect
complement to biscuits. Biscuits are not something served with gravy. The British
make something similar to an American biscuit, but it has more sugar and is called
a "scone" (pronounced with a short "o"). British
biscuits are more like cookies, only better. In the supermarkets, entire aisles
are devoted to biscuits of every size, shape and flavour. The greatest of all
are Jammie Dodgers. They are two thin shortbreads stuck together with raspberry
goo. Space does not permit me to expound upon
fish and chips, kebabs, korma, or so many other delicious dishes. And I don't
want to imply that life in Britain is nothing more than football and food. But
not much more. One final note. For those of you keeping score at home, as of Monday,
Mrs. Holford will have put up with me for an entire year. |