I’ve heard British people I know saying it for a long time and now the media is looking into it. A poll for The Times indicates that many British people think the country is heading in the wrong direction and is unrecognizable today compared to the past.

Nearly three fifths of voters say that they hardly recognise the country they are living in, while 42 per cent say they would emigrate if they could.

Hot-button issues include immigration, fading traditional culture, knife crime (I suppose the kids can’t get guns like the gangs they emulate in America, so they grab whatever they can find around the house) and a growing distrust in government.

I think I was a bit ahead of the curve on emigrating when I did, because Britain is an extremely difficult place for young people to survive now: The opportunities to find a job, get on the property ladder and make enough to survive are fewer than ever. Like South Africa in the '90s, Britain is now a place where the young are not really offered anything. Many of my friends and people of my age back home in Britain are actively trying to find a way to emigrate elsewhere for the time-being. And I can't say I blame them.

Although I do agree that Britain is no longer the same place I grew up in, I do hold some hope that this new Britain is a much more inclusive and forward-thinking than the somewhat stuffy island of the past.

I certainly sentimentalize the Britain of my childhood, but I understand that it cannot stay the same forever. Do I wish the safe and charming Britain of "The Railway Children" and "Malory Towers" still existed? Yes, I certainly do. But if it did, that would also mean that racism and enormous class divides still existed, which is obviously not okay by me. And it's not as if Britain didn't have violent crime in the past - there just wasn't the 24/7 media to give it endless coverage and debate.

In The Times, there is some good news though:

It is not all gloom. Three fifths (60 per cent) of those polled say they look to the future with optimism, against 38 per cent who are looking forward with anxiety. While 45 per cent say Britain’s best years are behind us, 50 per cent say that they are still to come.

Let’s hope that 50 percent is right and the best is yet to come. What do you think?

We are going to the surgeon on Thursday morning to see what he recommends for Pickle’s “cancer foot” (as husband and I now term it). The vet told us that since the cancer hadn’t spread then maybe it was a benign tumor (is that event still technically “cancer”? I don’t know. Vet is a bit vague and contradictory…) then the biggest problem might just be the irritation it causes Pickle and that perhaps steroids might shrink it enough that it doesn’t need surgery. However, I suspect (knowing how all things medical are approached in America) the surgeon will want to perform invasive surgery. I really, really hope this isn’t the case and I will put my foot down if he isn’t willing to even try the steroids. The steroids might just shrink the cancerous pad enough that only the pad has to be removed and not his whole leg, which would be great. We aren’t too anxious about it right now, but I definitely have a little niggling feeling that if he does undergo surgery, then I might be an emotional wreck. Will let you know when I know.

In other news, I am no longer obliged to do anything with my evenings or weekends now I’m not taking any evening classes (I couldn’t find anything that took my fancy and was feeling lazy), so I have started to get the urge to be craftsy again. I’m not very good at arts & crafts but part of me could totally enjoy that whole “scrapbooking” business if I had a) the patience, b) the attention span and c) the genteel, sweet nature those ladies seem to have. I do love wandering around crafts stores and imagining all the great things I would do if I have the skill or tools (I really do quite want a sewing machine). I almost found myself embarking on the task of making a quilt, and then I realized that I was being an idiot – I have neither the skills nor experience nor materials to do that. So, I’m back to a little lazy cross-stitching in front of the TV. I am working on a multi-colored British flag that will eventually (if I ever finish it) be a pillow cover. We’ll see if I finish it. It’s pretty big and that’s a lot of stitching…


Finally, please do visit my friend’s new(-ish) blog Eat Your Heart Out, Oklahoma for a mouth-watering, fun trip down foodie road in Oklahoma. It’s a combo of home-made and restaurant foods. Ryan is a great friend of mine from my college newspaper days and married one of my dearest friends from university. They live in Tulsa now and that Ryan really loves good food!

My heart’s been a little bit broken since Saturday. The culprit? Cancer. The victim? Pickle.

On Saturday we took Pickle to the vet for a check up, a vaccination and to see if he’d cleared a recent upper respiratory infection. All was great there. Then I asked the vet to look at a scab that won’t heal on his back right paw (which I’d asked her to look at before when we dropped him off, but she obviously had not because he gets a little vicious with people in white coats). She was immediately concerned and told us it might be a tumor.

We were gob smacked. If we had had any idea that it could have been cancer, we would have rushed him in immediately and not spent the last few months treating it with Vaseline and Savlon. The vet took some tests and told us to wait until Tuesday for the results.

I spent most of my time between Saturday and Tuesday afternoon with a pit in my stomach and swinging between calm acceptance and heartbroken sobbing.

Unfortunately, it was confirmed yesterday that it is indeed cancer – a mast cell tumor. These are rare in cats and, even when they occur, it is very rare that they are malignant. Pickle got the bad end of the deal – he got both.

More tests – blood, lymph nodes, wee – and another few hundred dollars later, and we should know by the end of the week if it’s spread. If so, I suppose we look after him until he passes away (the vet refused to even consider it since he’s happy, healthy and doesn’t appear sick in any way at this point). Personally, we don’t want to look at him and analyze every movement he does in case it’s a sign the cancer is progressing, but the vet basically told us point blank she would refuse to euthanize him at this point (her bedside manner is not what I would call “warm”).

If it hasn’t spread – which we feel sure it hasn’t because he shows no external signs of it at all – we then go down the very expensive route of seeing an oncologist and a surgeon and getting more scans and maybe even getting his leg amputated (which just breaks my heart, though I know he could happily live with three legs even though he is more than 18 pounds).

Either way, this is unbelievably expensive and incredibly emotional. But we can’t just let him die – we’ve soul searched and decided we’ll do what we can afford (which, frankly, isn’t much, but Care Credit will definitely help). I’ve written before about how much I love my pets and now it’s come to the crunch, I realize I must love him even more than I thought. I cannot begin to imagine how parents of actual children feel when their kids are poorly – it must be devastating.


I do feel much better just knowing what we’re dealing with, but every time I look at his face and big, fat body, my heart sinks. He’s not the world’s most typical or friendly cat, but, he’s our boy.

He’s only four years old, is indoor only, is fully vaccinated and thoroughly spoiled. I never dreamt this could happen. It breaks my heart.

P.S. I just got a call from the vet's office and - joy of all joys - the cancer has not spread! Huzzah!, as they say.


P.P.S. My amazing friend Gizmo the Pug had this to say about Pickle's cancer. No one else could have put it quite like this. You really should follow Gizmo's blog. It's enlightening. His master is a dear friend of mine from Oklahoma.

I've just been lost in thought for a while about a topic that I know everyone can contribute to: Familiar Strangers (FS). The people you see on a regular basis - who may or may not acknowledge you - but you don't actually know them. For me, there are dozens and dozens of FS in my life because I take 6 legs of public transportation every day at more or less the exact same time each day. But even before I took public transportation, I had many FS.

From my life in England to Oklahoma to Massachusetts, I have a few that really stick in my head - sometimes they really move me, sometimes they irritate me, but - more often than not - they leave me wondering who they are, where they live, what they do.

God knows this might make me sound like a lunatic and like I need to get a life, but these people become part of the fabric of my day. They are the unwitting backdrop scenery to my life – just as I must be to some people I don’t even notice.

Off the top of my head, I’ve listed just a few for fun. I want to know yours, too, though, so please do share them in the comments!

From my public transportation journeys in Boston: 

Curly Mullet Man: We take the same train and buses every day in the morning, he has a proud mullet mane of shoulder-length, tight curls, wears sunglasses no matter what the weather and really irritates me. When we we’re waiting for the bus, he pushes right to the front of the queue (or, to be more accurate, assembled masses – Americans don’t understand queuing at all) and fights to be the first on the bus. It’s really obnoxious and sometimes I want to say something, but know I’m a huge wimp and never will.

Tall Waiter: Same as Curly Mullet Man in his actions at the bus stop, this tall, middle-aged man wears a white shirt (no jacket or tie) and black pants every day (hence “tall waiter”) and forces his way to the front of the crowd. I wonder if he really is a waiter?

Lovely Redhead: A woman in her late 40s with dyed auburn hair and has a really kind face. Most of all, I notice her because her hands look just like my mum’s hands and it makes me miss my mum. That probably sounds ridiculous, but I noticed them one day when she sat next to me and it made me want to hold her hand. I didn’t, obviously.

Fashionista Japanese Girl: A recent addition to the bus route. She wears her long, beautiful, dark hair in a side pony tail way round the front of her head (the horror!) with two long fringe (“bangs”) not tucked into the hair band. She is odd and kooky and dresses very boldly with flare. She is too cool for me and I find her to be odd. I enjoy seeing what she wears each day!

Big Bus Driver: A jolly bus driver who I overheard telling a passenger one day that his best friend has recently died of a sudden heart attack in his mid-30s. He is normally so happy and friendly, so this knowledge broke my heart a little bit. I always make sure to give him an extra chirpy “Good morning/evening!” when I get on his route.

From Oklahoma: 

Smoking Language Teacher: In my time, I have smoked a cigarette or two, but not like this guy. Thin, pale and chain-smoking, Smoking Language Teacher walked around and around the language building at the University of Oklahoma talking to himself non-stop. I must have seen him smoke more cigarettes in a year than all my friends and I put together have ever smoked.

Transgender Lady: I used to see this male-to-female transgender lady around my neighborhood all the time and, frankly, it’s not something you necessarily see a lot of in the urban area of Oklahoma City where I used to live (let’s just say, it sat on the border between the wealthy folks and the crazy ghetto). She definitely still had a masculine look to her and had bright, flame-colored hair. I used to hate seeing people in the supermarket look at her and stare – it made me (internally) fiercely protective of her because she was obviously shy and aware that people were looking. I found out recently that my good friend just bought the house next to her, which makes me happy because I know she’ll have nice neighbors.

From England:

Bearded Lady: If you grew up in my area of Surrey, you would be well aware of the bearded lady who was always in the local shopping precinct. Harmless and old, she did, in fact, have a pretty impressive beard! But she didn’t mind – she just obviously didn’t care to shave it. Good for her! She was well known and, unfortunately, often bullied by the little oiks who who hung around the shopping center. Luckily, enough people knew her to keep an eye on her. The local newspaper wrote a story on her when she died and her funeral was packed with people who she never knew, but they knew her. And that warms my heart.

So, these are a few of my people – who are yours?

Not to be a whiney-whiner or anything, but I am going to complain for a minute about back pain.

Since I was in a car accident at about 14 years old, I have had intermittent back pain. At 20, I slipped a disc (no idea how or why) and over the period of a year, had three lumbar epidurals (that didn't work and were, let me tell you, the most uncomfortable, unpleasant medical procedures I think I've ever had done), a slew of MRIs (for the slightly claustrophobic person in agony, these are also pretty unpleasant) and was in a pretty dramatic car accident that only made things worse. After more than a year of debilitating pain (which, when you're in university and should be young and healthy, is deeply depressing), I tried acupuncture with no real hope for it to work. However, it did work over time and things seemed to get better. I am a big fan of acupuncture now and highly recommend it!

In the past few years, though, my back has gone out again two or three times, but has generally not been as bad as the first time. With my intermittent dedication to exercise and yoga, my back has become better and stronger, but I've been lazy in the past couple of months and now my back is troubling me once more.

The day before yesterday, I noticed it beginning to pinch but I tried to ignore it and hoped it would go away in time. Then, yesterday I spent a good portion of my work day at another desk in my office editing some video and when I stood up, it was agony! The bus-train-bus journey home was rather uncomfortable and, despite my husband's kindness last night (he cooked and took care of me) and a great night's sleep, my back still really, really hurts.

I am going to take it easy at work today and try not to move around too much over the weekend.

People who haven't experienced back pain have no idea how it affects you. An errant sneeze or hiccup can be blindingly painful!

So, there. I have had my whine. I need to just be brave and let it pass.