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Hot and heavy

Not to be outdone by their cheese rolling brethren in Gloucester,  the residents of Ottery St. Mary, in Devon, have their own very bold and particular sporting tradition: races with flaming barrels of tar

For weeks, the barrels are left to soak in a highly flamable, gooey tar. Then, on the night of the big event, Guy Fawkes Night, they are hoisted onto a contestant's back and set alight.

The largest barrels can weigh more than 30 kilos (66 lbs), but there are ones of lesser sizes for the women and children participants.

The tradition is thought to ward off evil spirits. (Harry Potter fans will note the similarity of the town's name to Ottery St. Catchpole, home to the Weasley family. This is no coincidence.)

But don't try this at home. Unlike Shrovetide football, which anyone can play, eligibility for carrying a flaming barrel of tar is strictly limited to Ottery natives.

Pure footie, or pure frenzy?

As further evidence of England's sporting spirit (see earlier post here), a reader in London points us to the tradition of Shrovetide football, held each year in Ashbourne, Derbyshire, and which the BBC guide describes as "one of the world's oldest, largest, longest and maddest football games."

The goal posts are three miles apart, and the game must end by 10 pm, but, other than that, there are few rules. Rather than being passed by foot, the ball is carried forward like in rugby or American football, where one large scrum tries to muscle its way past an opposing one.

Outdoor Drinking

Your correspondent is constantly impressed by the quality and variety of outdoor drinking establishments he finds around London, a crowded, sprawling city universally known for its rainy climate.

Perhaps one reason it works so well here is that, despite the more than 150 wet days a year, the city is home to a number of pubs with lovely riverfront views, making water as much an advantage as it is a potential hindrance to enjoying an outdoor pint.

Whitstable Oyster Festival

Whitstable is an old seaside town in Kent, about 5 miles north of Canterbury.

It's lovingly referred to as the "Pearl of Kent", owing both to its ambiance and its oysters.

Oysters are known to have been collected in the area since at least Roman times, but the town's marquee event - The Whitstable Oyster Festival - traces its history back (only) to the Middle Ages.

This nine-day affair kicks off on the nearest Saturday to the day of Saint James, the patron saint of oysters, which falls in late July, at the close of the oyster season.

Life in My Parallel Universe

As any science fiction fan will tell you, a parallel universe is one much like our own, only different.

Your correspondent recently stumbled upon his own parallel universe. Alas, there was no goateed evil twin, but it is a bit eery nevertheless:

A couple in their 30s make a temporary, job-related move from New York City to London. They rent a flat across the street from the Crown & Sceptre, a lively pub in Central London, not far from Regent's Park. On weekends, they explore London (places like Greenwich, Hampstead, Borough Market, etc.) and blog about their experiences for friends and family back in the States.

Sound familiar? The difference is: the year is 2006, my name is Josh, and the blog you are reading is the Downtownbeatons.

An uncanny coincidence? Not really. It's a hallmark of being an American in London that you live on the edge of familiarity, with a tinge of difference, every day. It's something American expats encounter whenever we cross the street and look the wrong way; or visit a "coffee shop" that closes its doors at 5 pm, doesn't offer refills and doesn't serve coffee by the pot; and, of course, English is spoken here, but it's not quite the same.

Judging from their own musings on subjects such as the cost of dry-cleaning and the eating of pizza with a fork (see especially their archives here and here), the Downtownbeatons will back me up on this sentiment, I am sure.

* * *

My doppelgänger Josh wrote an amusing post on expressions like chuffed to bits, which, as much as they may resemble English, are as perplexing to foreigners as your typical MTA announcement (“Standcleahdaclosendaws”) is to non-native New Yorkers. Here is my own running list of favorite British-isms --

Kit – Noun. Stuff, clothes, gear. As in when going skiing, “Have you hired your kit for the weekend?”

Bolshie – Adj. Angrily provocative. Originating from the socialist revolutionaries the Bolsheviks* (as in, "He's a smart fellow, but can be a bit bolshie")

Strop - Noun. A bad mood, a fit of fury* (Or, stroppy, Adj. bad tempered)

Go tits-up - Verb. To go wrong, to fail*

Naff - Adj. 1. Unfashionable. 2. Rubbishy, useless, of poor quality, unappealing*

Chav - Noun. A person, usually of poorly educated, working class origin, who dresses casually in designer sportswear and vulgar jewelry*

Wide-boy - Noun. A male characterized by his cocky charm, petty illicit dealings, and perceived stylish dress sense*

* Definitions courtesy of peevish.co.uk

Of course there are many others. Cheeky, Knackered, Shag, Snog, the list goes on. All I can say is that the British really do use them.

For the most part, I have not adopted these into my vernacular. However, I have found myself using the term "bespoke" more and more, including in reference to things other than suits (e.g. sandwiches).

Once more unto the cheese, dear friends

In Henry V, the Bard reminds us that when the clarion call is sounded, an Englishman will cast aside his "stillness and humility" and "imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage."

Footballer Wayne Rooney evoked this spirit in the now infamous Nike ad pictured here.

Some of this same sporting spirit is evidenced in the annual cheese rolling tradition in Gloucester, where, each year, a 7-8 lbs. cheese is sent down a steep and uneven hill and contestants compete vehemently to be the first to catch it. The top prize is the cheese itself.

It's harder than it sounds. According to cheese-rolling.co.uk, "it is almost impossible to remain on foot for the descent." Injuries are incurred; though most of them minor, broken limbs are not uncommon.

See video

Her Majesty's Boys of Summer

England is host to a number of the summer season's most venerable sporting traditions, from the Henley Royal Regatta, to Wimbledon, to the Royal Ascot. But one tradition has them all beat by at least 600 years: Swan Upping.

This annual census dates from the 12th century, when the crown lay claim to all unmarked swans in open water (a privilege it now shares, by royal charter, with two companies called the Vintners' and Dyers'), as they were considered a noble delicacy at the time.

Her Majesty's web site describes the ceremony thus:

In the Swan Upping ceremony, The Queen's Swan Marker and the Swan Uppers of the Vinters' and Dyers' livery companies use six traditional Thames rowing skiffs in their five-day journey up-river.

The officials wear traditional scarlet uniforms and each boat flies appropriate flags and pennants.

Photo courtesy of nick777's Flickr stream

Our Friends and Neighbors

People often ask me if, as an expat, it is hard making friends in London.

The answer is no. You just have to be open-minded, and willing to make the effort.

Why, just the other day we met a whole bunch of new friends during an afternoon stroll around the London Zoo.

Prince of Tides he is not

Last month was the wettest June in the UK on record. Sadly, it included serious flooding in parts of northern England.

In a gesture of support, Prince Charles paid a visit to the town of Toll Bar, whose high street had been submerged under more than five feet of water. A true gentleman, and a stylish one at that, he wore a grey suit and brown dress shoes, which necessitated he be pulled in a dinghy by rescue workers dressed, more appropriately, in waterproof pants and wellies.

Woops, add another £1000 to the flood damage. This pair of princely Tricker's will never be quite the same.

Thank goodness for the brave soldier at Wellington Barracks whose job it is to polish the Heir Apparent's footwear. Now that's some real heroic rescue work!

The Grand Nationals

The Grand Nationals are a very English tradition, which combines the country's love for horses, drink, and gardening all in a single afternoon.

Sponsored by John Smith's brewery, this "national hunt" (or, as it's known in the vernacular, "steeplechase") race is held every April at the Aintree Racecourse in Liverpool. It involves two circuits of a 2.25 mile course, with 16 fences, 14 of which are jumped twice. According to the Aintree web site, it demands "stamina, courage, good jumping and some luck -- in short, it is the toughest test in world racing."

Chelsea flower show

As much as the Spanish love their bullfights, the English love their gardens.

And if the San Isidro festival is the pinnacle of Spanish bullfighting, the Chelsea flower show is the pinnacle of the English horticultural circuit.

Sunday in the Park with Hyenas Revisited

Regular readers will recall an earlier post describing our unexpected encounter with hyenas during a Sunday stroll along Regent's canal.

Imagine your correspondent's surprise when, only a few days later, the BBC published this article entitled Zoo animals 'may jump into park'.

Come again?

The author cites an independent report, which notes, "It is a concern ... that should there be a dangerous animal escape [at the London Zoo] it is unlikely that the existing perimeter fence will contain dangerous animals, like a tiger for example, for a reasonable period of time allowing the capture team to do their work."

This assumes, of course, the capture team is not led by the great Taba.

Photo courtesy of mgmcinnis' Flickr stream

The Sunday Roast

"Sunday roast" is the traditional British main meal served on Sundays (usually in the early afternoon), and consisting of roasted meat together with accompaniments.

Apparently, the tradition originated in Yorkshire during the time of the Agricultural Revolution. It occurred on Sundays, says Wikipedia, because the meat could be left in the oven to cook before church, then would be ready for the consumption when the family arrived home.

Sunday roasts are still common in homes, pubs, and restaurants across the UK. It can be served up in a few different meat varieties. This afternoon, at our local pub, your correspondent sampled the roast beef served with Yorkshire pudding and horseradish sauce, while his companion went for the roast lamb with mint sauce. Both dishes were accompanied by parsnips, potatoes, carrots, and red wine (although beer is also fine).

Such a meal is typically followed by two "sister" traditions.

One is the Monday pie, which makes use of the left-over meat.

The other is the Sunday nap.

Sunday In the Park with Hyenas

Opened in 1816, the Regent's canal runs between Primrose Hill, below, and Regent's Park.

It's no longer used for commercial purposes (unless you count the 400 kilovolt electric cables that run beneath it), making it a perfect spot for a tranquil, Sunday afternoon stroll.

Or so we thought, before the pack of hyenas came calling.

It was feeding time at the London Zoo, which the canal bisects, and this man -- a zookeeper, we presume -- had just thrown a piece of raw meat into the dog run.

The meal was dangling on a bungee-like chord over a tree, which caused a great deal of commotion among the pack. The more athletic ones were able to jump several feet into the air to grab the meat, while the others tried unsuccessfully, until the zoo man gave them the slack they needed.

Mmmmm... tasty.

The Polite Way to Ruin Someone's Weekend

I wrote in an earlier post about one innovative technology they have here in London, and here is another we don't have in the States.Rather than drag, scratch, and rip your car to shreds, London's parking enforcement will very politely pluck it up, as demonstrated here:

As an aside, I have no idea whether any of these technologies are "properly" British, or if they originated elsewhere. But clearly, contrary to popular belief, not all of Britain's technologies are like their plumbing systems, which require different faucets for hot and cold.

For the record, our flat has a single faucet, never mind that hot comes out from one half of it, cold from the other. Oh, and we have an electric shower head.

Petersham Nurseries

We had a lovely lunch today near Richmond at a place called Petersham Nurseries.

The restaurant was inside one of the greenhouses, and a number of the waitstaff wore wellie boots.

It was a very English scene. There was even this woman, below, who looked like Mrs. Doubtfire.

In addition to the restaurant and cafe, the nursery also sells antiques, gardening equipment, and various home and bath products, all of which you can purchase here online. Oh yes, and plants!

After lunch, we walked along the Thames and up to Richmond park.

To be franked

Any guesses what's the difference between stamped mail and franked mail?

Signs of Soho's gentrification

Loo Hire

This outdoor public urinal magically appears every weekend on Oxford Street, near where we live. Although you can't see it from the photograph, they are in fact four stalls facing one another "in the round".

And, yes, Londoners actually do use it, although typically not the women.

Apparently, the idea is to provide an alternative to using those cute red telephone booths for such crude purposes.

Pornography, however, is another matter.

English Breakfast

Had breakfast this morning at Vera's Sandwich Bar. Great place, never mind the owner is actually named Terry.

A hearty plate of eggs, with a side of real London life, including cigarette smoke at 8 am.