Author: sunshineinlondon

I am feeling a little out of step today. Not as out of step as the person next to me in my latin aerobics class last night, but pretty close. I need a job, I’m tired of this feeling of insecurity and, most importantly, my favourite gym instructor is leaving London.

I’m not sure how well the dreaded job hunt went yesterday. I felt like either I was a few arrows short of a quiver , or the prey was running too fast … but I’m not sure I bagged any game. I’ll know within the next week or so, and in the meantime will continue to prowl and circle my prey. The thrill of the chase? Pfffffft.

Anyway, it’s not in my nature to dwell on the negative, so let me tell you about my adventures as I sallied forth through this big city yesterday. First up, I travelled by bus to our local tube station, and, sitting upstairs on the iconic red double-decker, I encountered true London gentility. A chap from the across the aisle let forth the loudest, most disgusting and growling burp I have ever heard. My instinct was to turn my nose up at his indiscretion, and you would have laughed had you seen my face. And then I imagined what just happened, as it would be in cartoon land: the wind rolled up from his toes, his mouth fell open like a moat bridge, and his burp rolled out like a rock from a cave. Just gross.

Then I took two tubes to get to my destination in central London: Angel. It’s north west of the river from where we live. As I walked the long walk through Angel tube station, I heard, in the distance, a busker playing a piano accordion. Buskers in the tube stations are generally pretty talented, and I often wonder if they are stars-in-the-making. Judging by how he was playing, yesterday’s busker was late for the tube. Talent? I’m sure he has neat handwriting.

And then on my afternoon outing to Lewisham (south London, and the same side of the river as we live), I encountered some true sunshine on the bus: the smiliest, cutest little baby girl who couldn’t take her eyes off me! She cheered my soul, and made me realise that life is much more about people, family and relationship: sod the need for a job! Well, not enough to put me off going for my next interview, but the sentiment helped.

And after all of the stress and tension of two interviews in one day, I headed off – by foot – to our local gym for my weekly dose of latin aerobics. It was just exactly what I needed – despite hearing that our delightful, infectiously bouncy Argentinian instructor, is leabing. Ahhh, how disappointing. She’s heading for Washington; our loss is totally their gain. Anyway, despite her reprimanding me for snoring in class (I yawned, but she gets the words confused!), and a woman next to me whose enthusiasm was diametrically opposed to her sense of rhythm (she was hugely enthusiastic), we had such a fun, hair-letting-down, shimmying, bouncing and mambo’ing hour of dance, movement and fabulous Argentinian music. While I can follow the dance moves relatively easily, I do think I look like an ironing board with flailing limbs. Who cares, though? It was totally wicked.

So despite the stresses and the significance of yesterday, I let go of my anxieties – and some of my dignity – for an hour and, for a while, I felt like I was in step with the world.

Sunshine signing off for today!

If you were heading off to a job interview and I said, “I’m holding thumbs for you!” how would you respond? If you were a Saffa, like me, you’d say, “Thanks. I need it.” If you were from anywhere else you’d look at me and frown. And if you were British, it’s likely you’d frown and you might say, “WTF?” (Why The Fums?)

Well, where I come from, holding thumbs means the same as the British “fingers crossed”. It means good luck, I’m wishing you well and every success. I used the expression when I was communicating with a work associate earlier this year, and she asked me what I was on about! I was quite surprised, as I thought it was a universal expression, but thinking about it, it must just be a literal translation from the Afrikaans expression. I’d be interested to know who else is familiar with holding thumbs?

So with all my job hunting, I’ve had Saffa friends holding thumbs for me, British friends crossing their fingers for me, and even a dear friend who said he’d cross everything he had in pairs for me!

There are a number of expressions and words that I use that make no sense here, and vice versa. I thought I’d run through a bunch of them:

• In SA, we wear pants, and underneath them, we wear underpants. In Britain, people wear pants under their trousers.
• I wear takkies, which are known around here as trainers or sneakers.
• A fabulous sunny SA leisure pastime is a braai, known here as a barbecue, or BBQ. Our Ozzie friends talk about barbies, but that’s the subject of another blog!
• What I call a geyser, is known locally as a boiler or a hot water system. If I asked someone here to come in and check out the geyser, they’d send over a doctor to look at my husband!
• Our flat overlooks a small dock, filled with yachts and boats. Most of the boats have people living in them. They have a communal ablution block, which I understand is known locally as a shower unit.
• I communicate via sms on my cellphone. Here, you send texts or you message from your mobiles.
• We have to be careful inviting people for tea here. It could mean afternoon tea or it could mean supper.
• Don’t get me started on flapjacks, pancakes, scones, crumpets – who knows what any of them mean! I don’t have a clue!
• If I do someone a favour, they could respond by saying any of the following: ta, cheers, brilliant, wicked.
• Are you stopping means are you staying.
• Where I might harp on about something – like job hunting! – others here might bang on about it.
• When I started my temp job earlier this year, a colleague asked me if I wanted a drink. I thought gosh, I know it’s important to fit in, but drinking at 11 o’clock in the morning? And at work? As I felt all my possible responses flash before my eyes, he said, “What’d you like, tea or coffee?” Where I come from, if I offered someone a drink it would usually refer to an alcoholic one, otherwise I’d offer to make you a cup of tea or coffee!
• There are a number of words here that mean very:
  • dead:  I was part of a small market research group a few weeks ago, and the wonderful market researcher, shy as a button, introduced the process to us by saying, “Right, it’s going to be dead informal.”
  • well: you could describe a good-looking person as well fit, or a bright person as well clever. My favourite explanation of this comes from one of my nephews. He believes that Jesus was definitely from London, given that God said of Him, “This is my Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
  • bear: I don’t know this one too well, but my lovely sons tell me that it’s used a lot by their young adult contemporaries. It’s bear cold out there, bruv.  I could write a whole blog about language of that generation – watch this space!

There is a delightful commercial on television in SA for a fast-food chain. It features a young, Afrikaans couple sitting on a bench together on the porch of their home in a small, rural town. To impress her, he’s memorized the menu of the coffee offering of the chain, and he recites them one by one: “Macchiato. Cappuccino. Mocha. Americano.” With each word, his girlfriend gets more excited and amorous. Eventually she lumbers her heavy arms around him, snuggles into his neck and says, “Ooh, I love it when you talk forrin.”

I had a telephone call this morning from a telecommunications service provider. We had a brief and disastrous encounter with them when we arrived in London, and would never go with them again. The caller said, “I believe you were a former customer of ….?” To which I said, “Yes.” He said, “Oh, you were for years?” And I said, “No. Not for years. I said yes.” So he said, “Oh. Are you still a customer then?” It reminded me of the paper plane conversation I blogged about a few weeks ago, but made me realize once again, that in these parts, I sure talk forrin!

Sunshine signing off for today!