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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.

 

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