tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36781091077662303342024-03-13T09:15:33.271-07:00The Britophile DiariesMy love affair with Britain, and how I'm finally getting there.Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-22476010785596830442014-10-17T21:57:00.002-07:002014-10-17T21:57:55.281-07:00Back Home<b>At long last, I am home. The USA home, not the other one.</b><br />
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It's been a whirlwind month, full of fascinating travel experiences across four countries, hellos and goodbyes, and innumerable experiences that I will remember for a lifetime.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Even though I've been home for a couple of weeks, there is still so much left to process. It's hard to get my head around the fact that I don't have a return-ticket to Britain in hand. I'm an ex-expat, and it's taking some adjustment. </span><br />
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Don't worry, there will be more posts to come. I've nearly worn out my camera taking photos all over Britain, and there are so many stories in my head that need to spill out here on the blog.<br />
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Get ready for some brit-tastic goodness. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><i>One last glimpse of England</i></td></tr>
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Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-13111688893421643102014-09-04T12:46:00.000-07:002014-09-04T12:46:00.204-07:0010 Days Left<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I only have 10 days left as a resident of England. </b>This fact makes my heart melt. Not only am I in love with this country, but I've become deeply attached to Capernwray Hall and the wonderful friends I've made here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This year has stretched me in so many different directions. I've loved, I've lost, I've cried more than I ever remember crying and laughed more than I ever remember laughing. I'm learning to love people, love God, and love myself. It shocks me how much I've changed since September 2013. </span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bRh1RNYNMWk/VADZPJb860I/AAAAAAAAFAY/A8xKQPI09NM/s1600/DSC_3506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bRh1RNYNMWk/VADZPJb860I/AAAAAAAAFAY/A8xKQPI09NM/s1600/DSC_3506.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the outside I've chopped off my long hair and gotten my ears pierced and gained weight. On the inside I've become more confident, outgoing, and vulnerable. I'm learning to trust others, even when there's a risk of getting hurt. I'm learning to have adventures without planning them out in advance. I've stripped my faith down to the bare bones and am building it up again with rock-solid truth. It's a slow process, but I'm growing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here is the plan. I'll leave Capernwray on September 13, accompanied by my dear brother who arrives in England today, and together we'll go on an epic sibling adventure through Germany, Switzerland, and back into England. On October 4 we will journey from London to Manchester, spend the night at the airport, and at long last fly home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I get on the plane back to the States, I think I will feel an enormous sense of loss. It's been magical to live here, and I've had to pinch myself time and time again to convince myself that I'm actually living in England. After years of wanting, waiting, hoping...the dream came true. Truer than I ever dared to hope. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>How many Britophiles get that kind of privilege? </b></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rPxSgkbY1TQ/VADaHD1Cr4I/AAAAAAAAFAg/TqP3eMB5wsQ/s1600/DSC_0147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rPxSgkbY1TQ/VADaHD1Cr4I/AAAAAAAAFAg/TqP3eMB5wsQ/s1600/DSC_0147.JPG" height="400" width="265" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KfhX1q1U9vc/VADaXgreguI/AAAAAAAAFAw/SpkuuTGwj1Q/s1600/DSC_0132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KfhX1q1U9vc/VADaXgreguI/AAAAAAAAFAw/SpkuuTGwj1Q/s1600/DSC_0132.JPG" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But I'll also feel some measure of relief. A part of me (the teeny tiny American part that craves BBQ and shopping at Walmart) has been tense for a year, strained by the distance from home, constantly aware of the fact that I'm a fish out of water. At long last I'll be able to fully relax with the people who know me best, in the land where I was born and bred.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And yet, I don't think I'll ever be able to live in the USA as I once did. I always had a longing for something different, and now I've discovered that "something" does in fact exist. And for the rest of my life I'll have that other world tucked away in the back of my mind. I might not return for many years, but I'll never forget it. I'll never forget this other place, this other life. It has changed me for the better, and I have little doubt that I will return someday. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Britain will always call my name, and I will answer.</b></span>Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-46834797144294751572014-08-29T12:38:00.002-07:002014-08-29T12:38:24.609-07:00Living the Everyday<div style="orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Waking up to the hiss of radiators, I feel cold air rush up to meet my bare feet as I swing them out of bed. </b>Groggy, I nearly bump my head on the low eaves and pull back the curtain to find bright sunshine at this ungodly hour. I wash my face under burning hot and freezing cold water from the double taps, and squeak across the floorboards to the toilet down the hall. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><i>Welcome to another day in England.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Looking back on the posts I've written since coming to live here, I realize how little I've talked about the everyday things. Of course there's the usual <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2014/08/seven-benefits.html">shopping for food</a>, <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2014/03/british-oddities-part-1.html">navigating outlet-free bathrooms</a>, and <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2014/05/the-five-cs-of-kendal.html">breaking into Chinese restaurants</a>, but as a blog reader recently pointed out, I haven't really said whether I <em>like</em> living here as an expat on a day-to-day basis.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><b>The answer: yes. Hands down.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At first I wondered if the charm of Britain would rub off, if working and eating and reading and traveling in this country every day for a year would change the way I felt about it. <b>It hasn't.</b> Of course some of the glitz and glamor has gone (see my post, <em><a href="http://www.thebritophilediaries.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/the-dream-dies.html">The Dream Dies</a></em>), but that wasn't the part that counted. The sparkle of my interest in Britain was like the powerful attraction that starts a romance. What is left when the first attraction has faded is a deep, abiding love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Contrary to what you might have gathered from my posts here, </b>I don't spend every single day tripping around the countryside, climbing hills and eating traditional fare in seaside villages. There's plenty of that, but most of my life involves stuff like <i>this</i>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Fraternizing with sheep.</strong> There's a lovely walk around the grounds here at Capernwray (we call it "The Loop") that passes through several sheep fields. I walk that path so often, I sometimes liven things up by talking to the sheep.<br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Bemoaning my bank account.</strong> I've finally stopped translating £s to $s in my head every time I make a purchase, but I cringe whenever I look at my budget. There's no getting around it: living in the UK is expensive. Especially when you're an unpaid charity worker. <i>Sad times.</i><br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Missing American bacon.</strong> No, I haven't gotten used to "bacon" being ham. British bacon is not bacon. It might be "back bacon," but it should never be mistaken for the streaky luxury that is <em>proper</em> bacon. (Before you tell me that streaky bacon is available in the UK, I will inform you that it may be in the stores, but it's not in the communal dining hall where I eat three meals a day.)<br /><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Taming the demon shower.</b> I don't know if it's an issue with the plumbing, or an antiquated shower head, or what, but our bipolar shower has two temperatures: freezing and scald-your-scalp. Getting clean without suffering third-degree burns is a fine art.<br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7-p7ipH_57c/VADQwACXXlI/AAAAAAAAE_s/bdHCFRVO3GQ/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7-p7ipH_57c/VADQwACXXlI/AAAAAAAAE_s/bdHCFRVO3GQ/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><i>Two of my favorite expats!</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Connecting with fellow expats.</strong> There aren't too many American volunteers here at Capernwray, and I treasure my friendships with them. As much as I adore my British friends, sometimes there's nothing better than talking about the things of home. No one understands Chick-fil-A or supermarkets or business hours or politics or buttermilk biscuits like an American.<br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Singing in the rain.</strong> I love rain. No kidding</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.200000762939453px; orphans: auto; widows: auto;">—</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think the climate here in the North of England is just two shades away from perfect. It gets dark too early in the winter (6pm I can take, but 4pm?), and the summer is too short, but I am an ardent fan of the weather. <i>This must come of being raised in a place that turns into a humid oven for half the year.</i><br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Lazy days off.</strong> I admit it</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.200000762939453px; orphans: auto; widows: auto;">—</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">sometimes instead of getting a cab or a bus or a train to somewhere new and exciting, I spend my free time simply chilling in my room. I grab a good book and cuddle up on the couch and I thoroughly enjoy myself. This goes hand-in-hand with my love of rain. There's no better weather for a day off than gray, chilly drizzle.<br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Cleaning up.</strong> Yes, my adorable little room (part of the servants' quarters when the Hall was a manor house) does get dirty from time to time. This necessitates a good scrub down, and I usually have to vacuum using the world's most pathetic vacuum cleaner: <a href="http://johnlewis.scene7.com/is/image/JohnLewis/233882494?$prod_main$">the Henry</a>. I'm sorry if you are emotionally attached to this cute cleaning appliance, but in my personal opinion every Henry ought to be chucked in the bin once and for all. I don't care if they have eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Not understanding football.</b> I'm sure some of you find it thrilling. Personally, I've been spoiled by American football.<br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Working.</strong> Believe it or not, I actually work. I've learned to use an Apple computer (they're obsessed with them here), calculate VAT, and count British money in my sleep. I've learned a lot about office work in the past year, and I think most of it will be transferable. When I interviewed for a job in the States, however, my potential boss had no idea what "franking the mail" meant.<i> Ahh, not the first cross-cultural misunderstanding.</i><br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><i>Me in my little office.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Falling into the accent.</strong> I have too much pride to attempt a full-on British accent (any native would probably laugh), but every now and then I lapse into the local dialect. I start saying "post" like a Lancastrian, or now and then a bit of Yorkshire comes through, and I unconsciously mimic callers' voices when I talk on the phone. Then again, one of my coworkers is a New Zealander, and there are times when I sound like her too. I just absorb accents like sponge cake absorbs custard.<br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Disparaging Americans.</strong> This is the flip-side to my increased patriotism and homesickness. Every time I encounter an American in Britain there's a part of me that can't help thinking, "Please go home. We've got enough Americans already in this country. Why do you have to come and spoil the landscape?" Terribly hypocritical, I know. I've also become more sensitive to cultural stereotypes, and consciously attempt to separate myself from what is commonly perceived as "so American."<br /><strong><br /></strong></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><i>Tea and crumpets were made for each other.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Shaking my head over British food.</strong> I love British food. Love, love, <i>love</i> it. However, a few things boggle the mind. The obsession with flavorless baked beans, for instance. I'm a fan of beans myself, but I like them to be either sweet or savory, not a bland middle-ground. And the love of white bread shocks me. Try finding hearty whole wheat bread for a decent price at the supermarket. It isn't easy.<br /><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Indulging in scones and clotted cream.</b> These are things that are hard to find back home, and I take just about every chance I get to luxuriate in the delicacy. It won't be long before it's beyond my reach once more....<br /><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Watching movies.</b> I am a huge fan of <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/LOVEFiLM-By-Post/b?ie=UTF8&node=3054240031">Amazon.co.uk's LoveFilm by Post</a>. You subscribe to the service (only £6.99 per month) and have access to nearly any DVD you can think of. Create a list of favorites and they'll send you two discs at a time by first class post. Watch them, send them back, and get two new ones. The turnaround time is about two days. Love it!<br /><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Glorying in BBC iPlayer.</b> I may not have constant access to television, but there's always iPlayer! How wonderful it is to be able to watch British TV without worrying about region blocks and late release dates.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That's a random rundown of the issues and blessings that have characterized my everyday life in England. Taking the bad with the good and the good with the awkward and the awkward with the glorious, it's everything I could have asked for.<b> They don't call it <i>Great</i> Britain for no reason.</b></span></div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-20219686177919648502014-08-02T09:16:00.002-07:002014-08-02T09:16:30.158-07:007 Benefits of Living in the UK<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For the last 10 months I've lived in this great country we call the United Kingdom.</span> <b>While I've not had to pay taxes, or use the healthcare system, or vote for politicians, I have worked and travelled here, made friends, struggled with homesickness, and drunk many, <i>many</i> cups of tea. </b>In fact, I'm drinking one as I type.</div>
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I'll be leaving this blessed place in less than two months. It will have been an amazing year, the best of my life so far. I'm looking forward to seeing my family again, but will miss Britain for so many reasons. </div>
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Today I decided to write down a few of those reasons. There are many more, but here are seven that sprang to mind:</div>
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Real Food</h3>
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I might get exasperated at the <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2014/04/british-oddities-part-2.html">expiration dates</a>, but it's nice to eat stuff that tastes real and isn't loaded with chemicals.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/daxis/5572379220/">London - British apples in Borough Market</a>, photo by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/daxis/">Daxis</a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; font-weight: bold;">Best TV Shows Ever</span></div>
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<i>Sherlock, Downton Abbey, Doctor Who...</i>if it's not British then I don't know why you're watching it.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/timloudon/241414894/in/photostream/">BBC</a>, photo by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/timloudon/">Tim Loudon</a></span></div>
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<h3>
Shocking Beauty</h3>
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Every day I can look out my window and say, "God, how am I this blessed?" The beauty of the country fields and the city streets is beyond comparison. Sure, the lights of Paris glitter and the Grand Canyon is impressive, but to my mind you can't top a ruined castle, or an English field dotted with sheep, bordered by a mossy drystone wall.</div>
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<h3>
Best Day Trips Ever</h3>
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Everything is a day trip away! Or at least there is a lifetime's worth of places to go and things to see within a day's train travel from anywhere in Britain. <i>Ever tried to research day trips from Northwest Arkansas? Not the brightest horizons.</i></div>
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The Accents</h3>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Call me shallow, but even after a year of living in the UK I can still appreciate English accents. They are so diverse</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18px;">—</span><span class="Apple-style-span">some comical, others luxurious</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18px;">—</span><span class="Apple-style-span">and I will certainly miss them when I go home to the States.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/jordynrothman/5773128592/">I LOVE BRITISH ACCENTS</a>, photo by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/jordynrothman/">Jordyn Rothman</a> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; font-weight: bold;">Tea Culture</span></div>
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So many tea breaks! There's always something to look forward to, it makes the workday fly by, and it provides the perfect excuse for homemade tray bakes.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dullhunk/7342171850/">RoyalTea Novelty</a>..., photo by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dullhunk/">Duncan Hull</a> </span></div>
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Friendly People</h3>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Speaking as a generalisation, the English people are fabulous. No two ways about it. I treasure the times when I've been sitting on a train or walking down the road or browsing in a shop and gotten into conversation with a local. I don't know why people say Brits are rude to Americans</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18px;">—</span><span class="Apple-style-span">I have met with nothing but friendly helpfulness, or at least an endearing "Thank you, love."</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Any other benefits you could mention? Let's hear it.</span></i></div>
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Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-46217588265106959102013-12-24T08:12:00.000-08:002013-12-24T08:12:51.496-08:00My First English Christmas<b>What does Christmas mean to you? </b><br />
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You're probably not thinking of presents under a tree. The real spirit of Christmas for you is something more significant, like family, home, traditions, and really good food. Like the Grinch you have discovered that Christmas comes without ribbons or tags, and even without boxes, packages, or bags. The important thing is celebrating with the ones you love. Right?<br />
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<a href="https://scontent-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/q71/s720x720/1476241_586378524750720_371413542_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://scontent-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/q71/s720x720/1476241_586378524750720_371413542_n.jpg" width="265" /></a>But what about the lonely ones? Does the day have any meaning for them? Does it have much meaning for someone like me who finds herself in a foreign country far from all she's ever known, unable to partake in the traditions that have always meant "Christmas"?<br />
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The beauty and wonder of it all is that Christmas <i>does</i> mean something to me, perhaps more than it's ever done. Being here in Lancashire instead of back home in the States means that December has looked quite different for me, but I'm finding more depth than ever before. The root of Christmas, the good news of Jesus Christ's birth, is easier to concentrate on when you're not distracted by all the frippery we tend to crowd around December 25.<br />
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<b>It's just as beautiful across the ocean.</b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">That's not to say that I haven't been busy celebrating in every way I can as I experience my first Christmas in England! So far I have taken part in these important British traditions:</span></b><br />
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<li>Celebrating <b>Advent</b> with the lighting of candles in a wreath</li>
<li>Singing <b>carols</b> not popular in the USA, like <i>Angels From the Realms of Glory</i> and<i> Once in Royal David's City</i></li>
<li>Saying<b> "Happy Christmas" </b>rather than "Merry Christmas" (though both are used here)</li>
<li>Eating fresh roasted <b>chestnuts</b> in a British grandmother's lounge</li>
<li>Hanging "<b>baubles</b>" on a tree rather than "ornaments"</li>
<li>Drinking <b>mulled wine </b>and snacking on <b>mince pies</b></li>
<li>Shopping at an outdoor <b>Christmas market</b></li>
<li>Hearing a <b>choir</b> sing in a cathedral</li>
<li>Counting down the days with an<b> advent calendar</b></li>
<li><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Popping a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>cracker</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">, wearing a paper crown, and pretending the lame joke is funny</span></b></li>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><b>Have I missed out on your favorite tradition? </b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><b>Leave a comment quick, there's not much time before Christmas!</b></span></div>
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I wish every Britophile reading this post a <i>very</i> happy and equally merry Christmas, and a thoroughly fantastic New Year!</div>
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Cheers,</div>
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Abigail <i>a.k.a. The Britophile</i></div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-44277802571432386692013-12-03T07:41:00.000-08:002013-12-03T07:41:00.573-08:00A Postcard from Britain<div style="text-align: left;">
Hello, everyone!</div>
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I know that I haven't posted much about what it is like living here on staff. That's because I had the idealistic notion of posting all about what I did here as a student before moving on to what's happening now. As you can see, that's not been happening. So...here's what has been going on this Britophile's life.<br />
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Living in a manor house in Northern England is pretty wonderful. Part of me is still in awe of what God has brought into my life--who would have thought that all of this could happen in such a short span of time! Last Christmas I was eagerly anticipating the day (still far off) when I could finally fly off to my beloved Britain for the first time. Now, hard as it is to believe, I've called this place home for 129 days, nearly<i> four and a half months</i>.<br />
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Time flies.<br />
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Another part of me is tempted to start missing home, but there are plenty of things to do to keep my mind off of homesickness.<br />
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The work here suits the organized-detail-oriented-paper-pushing side of my personality. I answer phones in a chipper voice, try to interpret mysterious regional accents, make tea, write messages, run errands around campus, make tea, process invoices, sort mail, make tea, and count loads of money (I think I'm an expert on British currency by now).<br />
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But there's so much more to life here than work. I enjoy socializing with dozens of new friends, many of them from far-flung areas of the globe. I've gotten to know people from England, New Zealand, Germany, Austria, Australia, Canada, and even Wisconsin. Amazing. We watch movies (I've learned that no matter what culture you're from, Mr. Darcy is a heartthrob), make food, and play games, not to mention the deep and encouraging conversations.<br />
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As Christmas approaches I am learning so much about European holiday traditions. For example, Saint Nicholas Day is coming up on December 6, which means that I will be setting a shoe outside my door and hoping for friends to fill it up with candy. My German friends have introduced me to the wonder of <i>real</i> advent calendars--not just sheets of paper with little doors, but sacks full of goodies wrapped up with colorful paper and ribbon and the gorgeous origami stars that I'm suddenly finding all over the place.<br />
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But this is England after all, and there are plenty of English traditions that I'm enjoying as well. Christmas is already in full swing here at Capernwray, with evergreen boughs and ornamented trees popping up all over the place. Mince pies have been a highlight of the season so far, along with Christmas cake and piping hot apple cider. I'm looking forward to many more evenings filled with mulled wine and wood fires, surrounding by the people who are quickly becoming my second family.<br />
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Cheers,<br />
<i>Abigail </i>Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-41376540018514522262013-10-27T07:28:00.001-07:002013-10-27T09:22:46.511-07:00Chester: There and Back Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>To pick up this diary where I left off, it is May and I am taking a day trip with my fellow students to the ancient city of Chester. Since it's now October 27, I have been back to Chester, this time as a staff member here at Capernwray, so now I've spent two wonderful afternoons in this wonderful city. Here is the journal of my experiences:</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>May 4, 2013</b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Saturday means sleeping in--unless you're supposed to be getting ready for a trip. I rushed to prepare and eat an early breakfast before rushing out to meet the coach with a few minutes to spare. I grabbed a seat in the middle of the bus with a great view out of the large window. The coach trip took about an hour and forty-five minutes, then they dropped us off and dozens of Capernwray students were suddenly on their own in the city of Chester. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We started by walking along the famous wall that encircles the heart of town. The Romans laid the foundations around 100 AD, and through the centuries they have been fortified and improved.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> Now they are a major tourist attraction, encircling the heart of medieval Chester. We students split up into groups, and I ended up walking with an Englishman and three Canadians--such a novel experience! On a regular day at home I am awed by anyone from a foreign country, and here I am palling around with a little United Nations delegation. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: small;">We walked along the wall until we came to some Roman ruins. We saw the remains of a garden and bathhouse, then explored the shell of an amphitheater. It's incredible to think that these stones have been in place for thousands of years, that Roman legions once occupied Britain and left their mark upon the land. The empire was once so great, and now these memories are all that are left--decaying ruins and the subtle cultural traits passed on through the generations that must have helped shape Britons into what they are today.<a name='more'></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">There was a church nearby called <a href="http://www.chesterwalls.info/stjohn.html">St. John's</a>, completely free, so we stopped inside. It was a lovely church, filled with intriguing history. The most surprising part was the blatant advertising in the form of hot chocolate, used books, postcards, etc. etc. etc. I know it's a hard struggle keeping these places open, so I bought a postcard and felt a little better about myself. <br /><br />We went around the outside of Chester Cathedral, through the peaceful garden of remembrance which was full of blossoms and pigeons, then stepped into <a href="http://www.mrsimmsoldesweetshoppe.co.uk/">Mr. Simms Olde Sweet Shoppe</a> for some goodies to save for later. Cinder toffee is delicious!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">After that we went in search of lunch and found the <a href="http://www.cheshiresandwichcompany.co.uk/">Cheshire Sandwich Company</a>, a narrow little cafe in a narrow little alley just up a narrow little set of steps. I had a sandwich of Coronation Chicken and mature cheddar that was a new and delicious flavor, washed down with ginger beer. After that lovely repast we did some more wandering, got ice creams from a street vendor (I had ginger honey ice cream for the first time), visited more shops including my first time at Tesco, then finished up with a bag of mouthwatering Dinky Donuts.<br /><br />We stepped into another church, but this time it was to check out an antique fair--my first since coming to the UK. It was so strange to see a beautiful old building (one of the oldest churches in Chester, I believe) filled with people picking through yard sale and craft items, even eating at a cafe inside the old sanctuary. I bought a bracelet with a silver heart charm as a kind of souvenir. <br /><br />We came out and started meandering in the direction of the carpark, then got waylaid by a cheesy carnival. It was one of those traveling affairs that sets up in a town over the weekend with rides of dubious safety and food of definite suspicion. The boys went straight to the tallest ride at the festival, something that swings you around at a very great height, but I contented myself with recording the whole thing on video. <br /><br />The carnival seemed to have an American theme, the rides decorated with superheroes, scantily-clad women, and the MTV logo. Is this what Brits think of America? If so, it's sad indeed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>October 19, 2013</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">This weekend I have the enormous pleasure of two whole days of footloose freedom! I decided to escape from Capernwray for a few hours and take the coach to Chester, just as I did in Spring School. I wondered what it would be like, going to the same place in the same way just a few months after the first time, but in very different circumstances.<br /><br />We split up into groups, just like last time, and I ended up sticking to a Kiwi, a guy from Argentina, and a German--once again, the only American! We walked the old walls again, but this time I actually got to go <i>inside</i> Chester Cathedral. That was an absolute treat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.chestercathedral.com/">Chester Cathedral</a> is constructed of warm, reddish stone that glows when the sky is dull. Gothic spires shoot upward and magnificent carvings of most minute detail cover every peaked window, trail along near the ground, even snake over the doors in elaborate ironwork designs that grow out of the hinges. Fan vaultings arch over wee porticoes that shelter grand doors. Flowers bloom in the pots outside, and even the dead stone walls are alive with moss and ferns. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>If you ever wonder where the beauty and history in</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Inside, the rooms and large and ancient and grand. Every square inch is lovingly designed, with fabulous stained glass windows that span the centuries, fine Pre-Raphaelite mosaics depicting characters from the Bible, ancient graves with their pretentious Latin inscriptions and hidden history, and the jaw-drapping quire where carved wooden canopies boggle the mind with the delicate craftsmanship that was executed on humble bits of wood back in the days of the Crusades. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The fabulous quire</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: small;">After the thrill of so much beautiful history, we felt a more basic sensation--hunger. We headed for some good old-fashioned English pub grub, selecting the <a href="http://www.piedbull.co.uk/">Pied Bull</a> for lunch. It has dark, low ceilings and the classic black-and-white Tudor look that makes Chester so special. I had fried haddock, chips, and mushy peas, which were quite delicious. After doing a bit of shopping we had to race back to the coach (and I mean race) to get back to Capernwray by teatime. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Another lovely afternoon in the great city of Chester! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Resources:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Personal Experience</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page</a> </span></span></div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-28528865253853890392013-09-03T10:48:00.000-07:002013-12-03T06:12:51.718-08:00Visiting the Queen of the Lakes<br />
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Life at Capernwray has become natural, just in a few short days. The routine of lectures, daily duties, mealtimes, and late-night conversations with roomies feels like a life I've been living for years. I'm making friends, getting to know people from far-flung stretches of the world, and letting them get to know me as well, opening up in ways I never have.<br />
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Though Bible School is its own little bubble, we're near many famous and wonderful attractions, and four times this semester we will have the chance to take a chartered bus to a location where we can roam about and enjoy the area for a few hours before heading back. The first of these trips was to a town I'd been eager to see: Keswick. It's a town in the Lake District that is actually inside a national park, and is surrounded by the natural beauty of water and the fells (mountains or hills, high ground used as common grazing).<br />
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Everyone going on the trip ate a big English fry up breakfast, then piled into the bus for a lovely hour and fifteen minute drive past tall, sloping scoops of land, dappled by sun and shade and thousands upon thousands of daffodils. Strips of houses cling to hillsides segmented by wobbly fields; the hills are almost vertical and it's a wonder the sheep don't roll off.<br />
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We got off the bus in a carpark and I went with our group on a short hike along the banks of Derwent Water. This is one of the most famous places in the Lake District, holding the unofficial title "Queen of the Lakes." My walk was almost an hour of stunning views, precious moments, and fantastic photo opportunities. Every bend in the path was picturesque. We stomped through mud, crossed bridges, trekked between hedgerows, finally climbing up a steep hill to a rocky crag perched high above the lake. This unpublicized scenic overlook proudly displayed Derwentwater and Keswick in all their sparkling glory. Looking out on that awesome landscape, the words of Bryan Waller Procter seemed appropriate:<br />
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<i> Deep stillness lies upon this lovely lake.</i></div>
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<i>The air is calm, the forest trees are still;</i></div>
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<i>The river windeth without noise, and here</i></div>
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<i>The fall of fountains comes not, nor the sound</i></div>
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<i>Of the white cataract Lodore: the voice,</i></div>
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<i>The mighty mountain voice—itself is dumb.</i></div>
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<i>Only, far distant and scarce heard, the dash</i></div>
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<i>Of waters, broken by some boatman's oar,</i></div>
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<i>Disturbs the golden, calm monotony.</i></div>
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Keswick is a quaint jumble of new shops and venerable ones, and an abundance of cafes and restaurants. Once in town I meandered through the tiny twisting streets, stopping to admire booths at the Saturday market where local salesmen displayed everything from handmade wooden decor to scrub brushes to freshly baked pies.<br />
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My friends and I popped into the adorable <a href="http://www.brysonsofkeswick.co.uk/keswick-shop-tea-room-and-coffee-bar">Bryson's tearoom</a>. This is where I had my first cream tea in England: a fluffy scone piled high with clotted cream and jam, accompanied by a steaming cuppa—for only £3.25. The place is run by a Cockney fellow with a love of conversation, and a passion for a certain local specialty called <a href="http://www.brysonsofkeswick.co.uk/lakeland-plum-bread-0">plumbread</a>, which is chock full of currants, raisins and sultanas.<br />
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After walking around town a bit more, I went to Booth's and did my first bit of shopping since arriving at Capernwray. Chocolate covered digestives were a must! The bus came for us at 4, and then we had a sleepy drive back to school, arriving just in time for tea. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Sources:</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.keswickplus.co.uk/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">keswickplus.co.uk</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.poetryatlas.com/poetry/poem/1648/derwent-water-and-skiddaw.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">poetryatlas.com</span></a></div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-75773237015871228872013-08-14T14:30:00.001-07:002013-12-03T06:13:01.297-08:00My New British Home<h3>
<i>April 20, 2013</i></h3>
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Capernwray Bible School will be my home for the next two months. I can't believe it, I'm finally here!<br />
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In the morning <a href="http://thebritophilediaries.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-journey-to-capernwray.html">we girls</a> slept in and then came down for a big English fry-up breakfast. The transit bus was supposed to pick us up around 11:30, but a few of us got antsy and decided to take a walk down the road to Capernwray Hall for a "sneak peek." It was hidden over a hill and around a bend, but when we finally walked up the long driveway, there it was. It felt less than real--so hard for me to believe that I was really standing before the "castle" I'd read and heard so much about.<br />
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We were so giddy, but managed to make our way back to the B & B and wait in the lounge with the others until the bus came. We piled into the bus and drove to Capernwray, unloading at the massive front door. It really looks like a castle! Of course there aren't battlements and loopholes and such, but there are thick walls, diamond-paned windows, a courtyard with weathered cobbles, arched doorways, a maze of corridors, splendid woodwork, and so much more.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It doesn't have old-world charm, but it does have nice showers and <br />new mattresses.</i></td></tr>
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Just as every cloud has a silver lining, sometimes the sunniest day has a looming shower. I discovered that I would not be staying the Hall itself with most of the students, but would instead be in one of the brand new Conference Hall bedrooms. You can imagine my disappointment. Here I was thinking that I'd be sleeping, eating, really living in this historic place, and instead I'm in another building altogether. However, my roommate from the B&B actually turned out to be my school roommate too, which seemed like an act of Providence. We are already good buddies.<br />
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We went to the dining hall for watercress soup (a first for me!) and I met new people at the table. We had fun discussing American words and phrases that you should never say in England (skip the subject of fanny packs altogether, <i>please</i>). I wandered around a bit more, arranged all my luggage around the room, then walked up to the top of the tower with several other students and took pictures of the beautiful view.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4hASL_W_FQw/Ugvx7f0C0JI/AAAAAAAAEgs/OYS_twHLC9M/s1600/DSC_0061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4hASL_W_FQw/Ugvx7f0C0JI/AAAAAAAAEgs/OYS_twHLC9M/s400/DSC_0061.JPG" width="400" /></a>At the end of the day everyone met in the Lounge, all 150-something of us students sitting everywhere, and listened to the school principal give his welcome message. He addressed my insecurities, the nervousness I was feeling, and after a cup of hot cocoa I began to imagine that everything would very probably be all right.Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-19178552180115498372013-07-25T19:13:00.002-07:002013-08-14T14:31:55.116-07:00The Journey to Capernwray<i>To avoid duplicating so many posts, I will refer you back to some posts on Picture Britain for information about my adventures in Liverpool: around the Albert Dock <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2013/05/the-albert-dock-pt-1.html">Part I</a> and <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2013/06/the-albert-dock-pt-2.html">Part II</a>, and visiting <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2013/07/speke-hall_17.html">Speke Hall</a>.</i><br />
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<i>Now on to my journey to Capernwray.</i><br />
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There was a nice old lady at Platform 3 that reminded me of my great-grandma with a helping of Miss Marple, who let me know that I was getting on the right train. We talked about how she was going to visit her sister and I was going to Bible school. I'm trying to speak to as many people as possible while I'm here, and it's working out so far.<br />
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The first stop was Wilton Northwestern, where saw that my train was going to be a few minutes late. My first encounter with a <i>problem</i>. I was ready to wait, but then got up the gumption to ask a blond young woman standing beside me, who said that a Glasgow train was going to be less late, and would be stopping in Lancaster. She turned out to be a college student from Wilton. We talked a bit on the platform, then when I decided to take her advice I followed her onto the train (a bit nervewracking as it wasn't on my schedule). I wrestled by luggage through the cramped corridor and into a rack, and hoped for the best.<br />
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Lo and behold, I made it to Lancaster, then it was pretty straightforward going to Carnforth. I snapped photos out the window of the sheep grazing on green, rolling fields (quite the relief from Liverpool's littered streets). It looks just like the photos and videos I've been looking at for years--it was staggering.<br />
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It's hard to believe that you can think of a place, make decisions, spend some money, and hey presto, it comes true.<br />
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Here I am, sitting in the Carnforth Station. Its claim to fame is that the movie Brief Encounter was filmed here. This movie is considered one of the greatest British films ever made, and perhaps the greatest romance, and I watched it a week or two ago because I knew I'd be coming here. Hence the Brief Encounter Refreshment Room, a little tearoom/restaurant they have restored to its 1940s glory. This is where I have just finished eating a chicken, stuffing, and gravy sandwich. When I arrived there was a Jazz band playing live music in the next room, giving the place even more atmosphere, and the room was packed with their fans--middle-aged and elderly English men and women sipping tea and eating scones. I found a spare stool at the bar and counted up my money--which has dwindled to a striking level. I have just a few pounds left, most of which I spend on dinner. I haven't used an ATM since Monday. Not quite five days and I've already gone through £100! That's traveling for you.<br />
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I spent another pound and some change on a pot of tea and nursed it for about half an hour. I have arranged to stay at <a href="http://www.capernwrayhouse.com/">Capernwray House bed and breakfast</a> (no connection to the school, but located very close by) with some fellow students I connected with on Facebook, and my roommate-to-be was supposed to meet my at the station at 12:30. <i>However</i>, the best-laid plans go awry and she was severely delayed. After waiting a long while, making friends with the refreshment room staff, and traipsing into town to visit an ATM, I called my bed and breakfast host and he very kindly arranged for me to be picked up.<br />
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This is a gorgeous bed and breakfast--warm stone exterior, homey interiors, and a staff that treats me like family. I deposited my 300 lb. backpack in my room and found refreshments waiting in the lounge: a French press coffee maker, milk, sugar lumps, and a carefully crafted cupcake with a spiral of cream on top.<br />
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I met a couple of other girls from Calgary, Alberta who had come in earlier and were staying in a room near mine. A little while later two more girls came, sisters from Clearlake, Iowa. They were planning to go to the <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g644363-d2037720-r134107633-Eagles_Head_Inn-Carnforth_Lancashire_England.html">Eagles Head Inn</a> in Carnforth, and the rest of us girls joined in. Just before we left, my roommate arrived and we all got into our hosts' cars to drive down to the pub.<br />
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We had a fantastic time introducing ourselves, learning our backgrounds, getting a feel for what we're expecting. The food was great (I had steak pie with new potatoes). By the time we left we were chums. We walked back to the B & B, giving plenty of time to talk. When we got back, my jet-lagged companions just wanted to shower and crash.<br />
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I got to bed pretty late after watching some melodramatic British programming, but couldn't sleep for a long time. Nerves, I guess. Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-49059730483030574392013-07-12T12:07:00.000-07:002013-07-25T19:14:05.309-07:00Back Across the Pond<b>After 2 1/2 months of traveling in Europe, I have come back to the "real world," but that's not going to last long.</b> I regret not posting more often during my trip--not posting at all, really. There was just so much to experience, I couldn't find the time or the energy to write about my experiences.<br />
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I'm going back through my photos and journal, though, and dredging up the memories. I've written quite a story for myself since leaving Liverpool in April. There have been high points and low points, times when I wanted to stay forever and times when I wanted nothing more than to be back home. Through it all I've discovered things about God, about myself, about life in general, and the amazing possibilities that are open to all of us. The thought that I could have traveled so extensively is still amazing to me. Little ol' me who never left the States has now been to England, Scotland, France, and Switzerland.<br />
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Even more shocking, though, is the fact that <b>I'm going back</b>. Soon. In September, in fact, if everything goes according to plan. I am applying for a position as office assistant at Capernwray Bible School, which will mean moving to Britain for a year.<br />
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<i>Me. Little ol' me. Living in Britain. </i>It's a Britophile's dream come true.<br />
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It's frightening though, too. I almost turned down the opportunity several times. I am so close to my friends and family--they mean the world to me, but the fact is that I feel pulled by God to go back to England.<br />
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But more on that later.<br />
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For now, I'm going to play catch-up and post about some of the amazing places I've been since April, the marvelous people I've met, the fantastic food I've eaten, and the experiences that made my trip to Europe unforgettable. And I'm taking you along for the ride!<br />
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<b><i>The idyllic English countryside</i></b><br />
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<b><i>A bygone golden era at Lyme Park</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Some iconic landmarks</i></b><br />
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<b><i>Some not quite so iconic</i></b></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">And a whole lot more. We've got a wild ride ahead of us!</span></div>
Cheers,<br />
Abigail<br />
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Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-91740953966491433882013-04-28T14:27:00.004-07:002013-07-12T12:08:26.988-07:00Loving Liverpool<b>My stay in Liverpool was amazing!</b> Could there be a better way to get over jet-lag and become accustomed to a new country than spending five days with friends?<br />
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I was able to go shopping at Sainsbury’s on the first day, and went giddy over seeing foods I’d only read about in British recipes—celery root, fresh coriander—and the fact that everything was priced in £s. There were local newspapers, frozen pies, and more Cadbury treats than I’d ever seen in my life. The sweets sections of British stores are gratifyingly extensive. My friend Lydia insisted on buying all kinds of British goodies for my stay here: Nairn's oatcakes, sausage rolls, and a plethora of local cheeses to start.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The cashpoint outside gave me my first experience with English paper money. I’d handled some coins before, but this colorful currency was a first. Why does American cash have to be so boring? The same basic designs for decades, the monotone coloration, the consistent size…I think Brits have the right idea: keep things interesting.</div>
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That night I got a little depressed (probably because I ended up staying awake until about 23:00 checking emails), hence the post about my “<a href="http://thebritophilediaries.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/the-dream-dies.html">dream dying</a>.” In a way my original dream has died. I don’t think I can ever see Britain the same way after actually living here for a while. But then, I don’t have to. The old dependence on books and photos and daydreams has been replaced by real-life experience, which while flawed is infinitely richer and more fulfilling.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lydia and I trekked into the city the next day, baby and pram in tow, to have a look at the downtown area and Liverpool ONE. It was the first time I’d ridden a British train—almost my first time on a train, period—and that was a flurried, novel experience. All those people bound for different places, each with a story and a goal, each with a ticket telling places they’d been, and places they were going to....</div>
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After lunch Lydia had to take care of the baby, so for the first time since touching down on the tarmac I was on my own in Great Britain.</div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-47331186404135701142013-04-23T07:47:00.000-07:002013-04-23T07:47:14.900-07:00Blog Update, Finally.Hello everybody! I haven't dropped off the face of the earth. I'm at Capernwray Bible School and having a grand time. I'm meeting a lot of new people, and while this isn't exactly what I expected it to be, I am being stretched in new and exciting ways. <div>
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Despite the slight depression of my last post, I am loving Britain! This is an amazing place, and I can't wait to share more of my experiences with you. </div>
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The internet is very unreliable out here in the country, so I can't promise when the next post will be, but rest assured, I'll be working on it. </div>
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I am so grateful for your support and comments, everybody!</div>
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- Abigail</div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-47885315881532206972013-04-19T07:30:00.000-07:002013-04-19T07:30:03.647-07:00The Dream Dies<b>I've only been in Britain for a couple of days, but I'm already starting to feel the excitement fade. </b>I feel like crying, reaching out to grab it as it slips away from me in slippery strips. It's frightening to see a dream die like that.<br />
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Looking back on the posts I've written here so far, I can sense the passion and joy of a girl who feels rather far away from me. She researched Great Britain within an inch of her life, scanned through thousands of photos, read guidebooks, daydreamed, watched movies, cooked food, all in an attempt to get closer to England.<br />
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I don't know what I expected to find when I got here. Maybe I thought I'd see this country in 4D, everything would sparkle, or I'd be in a constant state of high excitement. That was true for about half a day, but now it's faded. I had such huge expectations that there was bound to be some letdown.<br />
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It's not that I'm unhappy—far from it—it's just that I'm coming to terms with the fact that Britain is not Heaven. <b>In order to fulfill my lifelong dream, I'm having to let go of the imagined England and grab onto the real thing. </b>There are so many adventures in store for me, so many things I still want to see and do, but some of the magic seems to have gone out of it.<br />
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<i>Does that mean I should spend my whole trip here trying to recapture the magic?</i> I don't think so. Back in July 2011 I wrote this after explaining England's pull on my imagination, "I want to find out more about England. I want to actually go there and experience this magnetic mystique for myself. I want to satisfy this inexplicable craving." Perhaps that craving has been satisfied, a little sooner than I expected.<br />
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Here is a quote from C.S. Lewis that I feel I must take to heart, and I hope it helps you if you are feeling the same thing:<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go — let it die away — go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow — and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and you will be a bored, disillusioned old man for the rest of your life. It is because so few people understand this that you find many middle-aged men and women maundering about their lost youth, at the very age when new horizons ought to be appearing and new doors opening all around them. It is much better fun to learn to swim than to go on endlessly (and hopelessly) trying to get back the feeling you had when you first went paddling as a small boy.</span></blockquote>
All right then, Jack. Here go the swimming lessons.Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com5Liverpool, Merseyside, UK53.4083714 -2.991572600000040453.2569664 -3.3142961000000404 53.5597764 -2.6688491000000405tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-59093237190129800622013-04-17T03:29:00.000-07:002013-04-17T03:29:31.181-07:00Hello, Britain.<br />
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<b>After weeks of packing, planning, stressing, giggling, saving, and years and <i>years </i>of waiting, here I am. </b></div>
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My flight was wonderful, despite the fact that I'd only flown a couple of times before—and never across an ocean. My friends and family gave me a heartfelt sendoff, full of prayers and well wishes, and I savored my last few moments with my family, knowing that I wouldn't see them again in person for at least 2 1/2 months.</div>
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Once again I marveled at the patchwork ground far beneath me, ripples in the land, tiny clusters that might be towns, lakes reaching out with alien fingers, the fuzzy line where blue meets white. It was still a novel experience (and boy, did my ears hurt when we touched down in Chicago).</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ze2Rqg0gAXQ/UW5vDO6RrsI/AAAAAAAAEOg/FKxWlf6H_rU/s1600/DSC_0029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ze2Rqg0gAXQ/UW5vDO6RrsI/AAAAAAAAEOg/FKxWlf6H_rU/s400/DSC_0029.JPG" width="400" /></a>I'd heard horror stories about O'Hare International Airport, but my experience was fabulous. I was able to lug my carry-on full of bricks all the way to my departure gate without having to get on a tram. I set my bags down beside a nice elderly couple sitting in the waiting area. We started talking and didn't stop for about three hours! We got so chummy, they gave me their contact information in case we could meet up while I was on my trip!</div>
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After boarding the plane I met my charming seat companions—two young gentlemen named Jake and Alphie—then took my shoes off and settled in with an iPod for the long haul.<br />
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The word "surreal" is overused, but I think it suits my first transatlantic flight. I almost felt as if it wasn't really happening. Riding high above the clouds at sunset, the fading light gleamed golden on the plane's edge, then that faded and a single light on the wingtip was all there was to mark our spot in the night. It looked just like the pictures, but it is different experiencing it in person.</div>
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I'm not sure if I got any sleep, but I did curl up in the darkness with my neck pillow and blanket, earplugs dulling the roar of engines and a fussy child in the rear of the plane. Around seven o'clock (Manchester time) the sky grew teal in front of us, then it turned lighter, with a strip of rosy yellow in the east, the clouds rising up from the mist like fluffy, sculpted islands. My first airborne sunrise.<br />
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The pilot casually announced that we were passing over Ireland. I jerked over toward the window and saw green stretches of soil curving together in ancient, un-geometric fields. I took out my tiny camera and snapped pictures through the blurry window, holding my breath and pressing my face against the glass, on the lookout for my first glimpse of England.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qab2si0R4ys/UW5vAkO92mI/AAAAAAAAEOQ/2dPMsUAtyBA/s1600/DSCN0232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qab2si0R4ys/UW5vAkO92mI/AAAAAAAAEOQ/2dPMsUAtyBA/s400/DSCN0232.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>It was heart-stopping. </b>There, just a few thousand feet below me, the land I'd dreamed about for so long came through the clouds.</div>
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Clouds do inhibit visibility when flying, but I think it gives the landscape an air of mystery—what is hidden is just as beautiful as what is revealed through the fleeting patches. We came closer to Manchester, flying low right over the motorway, then touched down on sunny English soil. I had my bag in hand, itching to disembark.<br />
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After tromping my way down the long corridor, I got into the non-EU line for customs, feeling shivery and ready for it to be over already, fearing more than anything that they would find something wrong with my papers and send me packing on the next flight back to America. But believe it or not, customs was a breeze! I don't think the woman even looked at my Capernwray acceptance letter; I just told her that I was here for 79 days and she stamped my passport.<br />
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I walked toward the exit in a daze of relief and happiness, grabbed my luggage off the carousel, and set off through the doors into the wide world of Great Britain.</div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-87256132263767452502013-04-07T11:35:00.000-07:002013-04-17T03:36:48.858-07:00Packing for Great Britain<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have been packing for two solid weeks.</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At least, that's what it feels like. The longest trip I've been on to-date was 10 days in the Rocky Mountains with my family—and I was how old? Eight? I've never had to pack like this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Journalist Susan Heller once wrote, “When preparing to travel, lay out all your clothes and all your money. Then take half the clothes and twice the money.” I think I've got enough money, it's the clothes thing that I'm not sure of. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>What does "packing light" mean, exactly?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm pretty sure it means leaving behind my handy dandy sweater shaver. But what about my hats, scarves, camera, and hot shoe flash? My laptop, my Nexus 7, my iPod touch, my lip balm and razor...what is necessary and what is superfluous? How many pairs of shoes say "prepared" and how many say "newbie tourist"?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Spare me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm sure that when I return I will be chock-full of valuable information for next time, or for those who would follow in my footsteps. At the moment though, I'm just figuring this thing out. <b>In order to help any fellow travelers, I'm going to be utterly transparent about my adventures.</b> This means detailing my budget, giving you my complete packing list, and generally relating every tip and trick I learn. It'll be good to have a record for myself too—so I don't have to make the same mistakes twice!</span><br />
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<b>Update:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Here is the list of stuff that I actually brought with me to Britain:<br />
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<br />
<b>Wearing</b>:<br />
Snowboarding Pants<br />
Underwear<br />
Socks<br />
Merrells<br />
Purple sweater and white cami<br />
iPod and earbuds<br />
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<b>Outerwear</b>:<br />
Laplander hat<br />
Red Beret<br />
Scarves - multicolored, blue, dark diamonds<br />
Red gloves<br />
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<b>Tops</b>:<br />
Camisoles - black, brown<br />
Undershirts - black, white<br />
White sweater<br />
Red sweater<br />
Jean shirt<br />
Grey cardigan<br />
T-shirt<br />
Black shrug<br />
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<b>Bottoms</b>:<br />
Khakis<br />
2 pair jeans<br />
Green skirt<br />
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<b>Pajamas and Underwear</b>:<br />
Gray pajamas<br />
Leggings - gray, brown, black<br />
Bras - 2<br />
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<b>Socks and Underwea</b>r:<br />
7 pairs socks<br />
8 pairs underwear<br />
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<b>Shoes and Misc</b>:<br />
Boots<br />
Flats<br />
Belt<br />
Guidebooks<br />
Black dress<br />
Swimsuit<br />
Bathrobe<br />
Picnic supplies<br />
<br />
<b>Toiletries</b>:<br />
Glasses<br />
Contact solution<br />
Contact case<br />
Extra contacts<br />
Toothpaste<br />
Toothbrush<br />
Retainers<br />
Floss<br />
Face wipes<br />
Razor<br />
Deodorant<br />
Q-tips<br />
Tweezers<br />
Scissors<br />
Pimple popper<br />
Cold sore medication<br />
Foundation<br />
Eye shadow<br />
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<b>Jewelry </b>(not expensive):<br />
6 Necklaces<br />
3 rings<br />
5 pair Earrings<br />
Hair bands, etc.<br />
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<b>Day Pack</b>:<br />
Jacket in bag<br />
Umbrella<br />
Little camera<br />
Passport, ID, travel card, debit, and customs papers<br />
Nexus 7 charging cord<br />
Outlet to USB converter<br />
Earplugs<br />
Tissues<br />
Mini flashlight<br />
Neck pillow<br />
Gum<br />
Compact mirror<br />
Lip balm<br />
Sunglasses<br />
Nexus 7<br />
Sleeping pills<br />
First Aid and sewing kit with clothesline<br />
iPod charging cord<br />
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<b>Carry-on</b>:<br />
Important document copies<br />
Razor blades<br />
Extra earbuds<br />
Small notebook<br />
Money belt<br />
Little camera battery charger<br />
1 pair underwear<br />
Red shirt<br />
Lotion<br />
Face scrub<br />
Dandruff shampoo<br />
Baby powder<br />
Cold sore medicine<br />
Eye drops<br />
Shampoo<br />
Washcloth and soap<br />
Pads<br />
Brush<br />
Camera - charger, cleaner, 4 cards, 2 cords<br />
Adapters<br />
Flash<br />
Earplugs<br />
Laptop - sleeve, mouse, cord<br />
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-43786383215685178622013-03-14T14:00:00.004-07:002013-04-07T11:35:51.323-07:00One Month to the Day<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>If all goes as planned, in a month I will be boarding a plane for Manchester, England! </b>It seems so long ago that I wrote <a href="http://thebritophilediaries.blogspot.com/2011/07/t-he-odds-1.html">this post</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It would seem that the cards are stacked against my dream trip to Britain, what with my lack of experience, lack of money, etc. But I’m still trying to make it! I’m scrimping every penny, doing lots of intensive research, and throwing up many a prayer. </span></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/redstamp/5577258050/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="April iPhone Wallpaper"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="April iPhone Wallpaper by redstamp.com" height="320" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5292/5577258050_2652ec0345.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/redstamp/5577258050/" style="line-height: 20.46875px; text-align: start;">April iPhone Wallpaper</a><span style="line-height: 20.46875px; text-align: start;">, a photo by</span><span style="line-height: 20.46875px; text-align: start;"> </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/redstamp/" style="line-height: 20.46875px; text-align: start;">redstamp.com</a><span style="line-height: 20.46875px; text-align: start;"> </span><span style="line-height: 20.46875px; text-align: start;">on Flickr.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Since then I've tested my wings travelling to Dallas and Austin, Texas by myself. I have saved like crazy and been given gifts by amazing friends to make my dream a reality. I have applied and been accepted to the school of my dreams. I own a plane ticket for April 14, 2013.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One sensation keeps hitting me over and over: <i>this is really happening. </i></span><br />
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It's all too real for my poor family. Aaron keeps talking about how weird it's going to be when I'm gone, Dad shakes his head in wonder, and Mom gets this look on her face like she's choking on a small elephant. Two and a half months—that's far longer than I've ever been gone from home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A lot of things are up in the air right now, but one thing is certain. As cliche as it sounds, I'll never be the same again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Cheers,</span></div>
<div style="background-color: #fefefe; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Abigail, <i>a.k.a.</i> <i>The Britophile</i></span></div>
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<br />Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-47624008495861719572012-12-31T14:34:00.001-08:002013-03-14T14:01:06.125-07:00Hello 2013!<b><span style="font-size: large;">This year has the potential to be the most amazing year of my life so far.</span> How is that for anticipation?</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/33903949@N08/3462468599/" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HlaewS3Gu7o/UOISRj5elSI/AAAAAAAADno/C-a0FJQayiA/s400/3462468599_6f42d4d1ae_z.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/33903949@N08/3462468599/">inside Capernwray main hall</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/33903949@N08/">ruth.lovin</a></td></tr>
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I have been accepted by <a href="http://thebritophilediaries.blogspot.com/2011/09/capernwray-bible-school.html">Capernwray Bible School</a> for their April semester, there are awesome friends all over Europe who are willing to take me in (or at least give me a pallet in the woodshed), so I am busy making plans for <i>finally</i> seeing this land that I have written about for so long.<br />
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<b>Will Great Britain live up to my expectations?</b></div>
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Who knows. I think that when we grab hold of something with a real passion—whether it be music or writing or acting or paragliding—we tend to romanticize it. We buy the bumper stickers, talk it up to our friends, and sometimes forget that there is some <i>real work</i> involved, or maybe it's not all that we're cracking it up to be.<br />
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As a fellow Britophile, you've no doubt noticed that there is a tendency for us to, <i>ehem</i>, overlook the parts of the Britain that we'd rather not see and focus on the charming, exciting, and fascinating elements.<br />
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<b>Does that mean that we stop loving Britain? </b>Of course not!</div>
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I know the UK isn't all red telephone boxes and tea sandwiches—it's a real place with real people and real problems. Nevertheless, it's my favorite place on the planet, and I am itching to hop a plane and finally set foot on British ground. It looks like that might happen next year, which will mean big changes, but amazing ones.<br />
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">What does 2013 look like for you? What are you looking forward to? </span></b></div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-577874584374248692012-10-10T14:10:00.001-07:002012-12-31T14:34:20.022-08:00Next Year's Goals <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">One of my yearly traditions is to go on a camping trip with some of my closest girlfriends and their mothers. </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">I just came back from our fifth annual trip, and once again it was an awesome experience full of laughter, adventure, and even some tears. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The conversations we ladies have around the campfire at night (</span>accompanied<span style="font-family: inherit;"> by copious amounts of marshmallows and Nutella) are some of the deepest and most personal of my entire life, and nearly every single time we end up recounting the events of the past year and making goals for what we want to happen before we come together again. This year I was full of the news that I have been accepted at </span><a href="http://thebritophilediaries.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-answer-is-yes.html" style="font-family: inherit;">Capernwray Bible School</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> in Lancashire, and my friends were there to give their encouragement and advice. </span></div>
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Here are a couple of the goals that I made for 2013:</div>
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<ol>
<li><b>Make friends. </b>I can't imagine that I<i> </i>won't be<i> forced </i>into making friends, since there will be about 170 of us crammed into a single school, but I know that my tendency is to be a quiet introvert who doesn't reach out to others. I'm determined to reverse this, however, by actively pursuing friendships, learning from others, and making connections. Hopefully I'll get to know dozens of wonderful people from around the world.</li>
<li><b>Travel after school. </b>The spring semester that I'll be attending runs from the 20th of April to the 14th of June, just about a week shy of two months. That will be a wonderful opportunity to experience a piece of England from the inside, but I want to do <i>more</i> than that. I want to travel afterwards; in the best of all worlds I'll spend three solid months across the pond, touring more of Britain as well as the Continent (<i>Switzerland and France sound amazing...</i>). </li>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M6xvqX-heBg/UHcnHKg8-0I/AAAAAAAADCs/lwwxfnVjaHU/s1600/DSC_1316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M6xvqX-heBg/UHcnHKg8-0I/AAAAAAAADCs/lwwxfnVjaHU/s320/DSC_1316.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">I always leave those late-night campfires feeling </span>rejuvenated<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and inspired, and this time I'm determined to carry that through by making some goals for the next year, including the two above. <b>Who says that the new year has to begin in January? </b>I believe that if you are full of great ideas and ambitions for the months to come, there's no reason you shouldn't start anew right now and reorganize your priorities, plan out your dreams, and put concrete words to the passions you want to pursue.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;"><b><i>What dreams have you been mulling over lately? Why wait until January 1?</i></b></span></div>
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Cheers,</div>
<div style="color: black; text-align: start;">
Abigail, <i>a.k.a.</i> <i>The Britophile</i></div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-26629689586610281982012-08-24T14:02:00.000-07:002012-08-24T14:02:27.160-07:00The Answer is Yes!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INu_TgkxBEQ/UDfq1MjoD8I/AAAAAAAACyY/XnYEbYHr7u8/s1600/Acceptance2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INu_TgkxBEQ/UDfq1MjoD8I/AAAAAAAACyY/XnYEbYHr7u8/s320/Acceptance2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's here: my official acceptance letter from Capernwray Bible School. </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wasn't at home when it arrived, so when I talked to Mom and she said that an envelope from Capernwray had come, I felt a powerful mixture of emotions. <i>Is this a good thing? Will it be the letter I've been awaiting for over a year, or will it be a kind but firm rejection?</i> I begged Mom to rip open the envelope and tell me what was inside, and it seemed to take her forever. Still, I tried to quiet myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I've put this into the Lord's hands, after all. Whatever is in that envelope is His will. </i>I honestly think that I was prepared for a yes or a no. Certainly I would have been crushed at a negative reply, but I would have been sure that it came through no fault of mine; it was just a door that God chose to close.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But the answer is yes!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have officially been accepted into Capernwray Bible School's spring semester. God willing, I will be at Capernwray Hall in Lancashire on April 20, 2013, ready to begin three months of intense Bible study and immersion into the English experience. <i>Can you possibly imagine how happy this makes me? </i>When Mom told me the news I cried, right in front of a bunch of strangers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So much hoping, so much waiting, so much uncertainty...and now I <b>know</b>. God has opened a door far wider than I could have imagined; through "coincidence" and circumstance He has paved the way for something that will change my life forever. I am thrilled at the prospect of sharing my future adventures with you, my fellow Britophiles. Who knows, without your interest and support I might never have made it this far!</span><br />
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Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-12397017781534123352012-08-10T09:00:00.003-07:002012-08-10T09:00:40.216-07:00He's Got My Life In His Hands<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">It might sound trite, or even foolish, but I know that no matter what happens it's going to be for the best.</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This morning I sent off the envelope containing my application form for <a href="http://thebritophilediaries.blogspot.com/2011/09/capernwray-bible-school.html">Capernwray Bible School</a>. If I am accepted it will mean a dream come true--three months spent in the Lancashire countryside in a beautiful old manor house, growing my relationship with the Lord and making new friends. If for some reason I am not accepted, then I know that God has other plans.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some people might think that trusting the Lord like this is a crutch:<i> You just don't have the guts to face life's disappointments, so you pass them off as "God's will." </i>But that's not it at all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It takes real guts to put your faith in an invisible God and truly believe that He loves you and wants the best for you. It takes real guts to own Jeremiah 29:11 for yourself: </span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.</span></i></div>
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You know how much I love England--the people, the landscape, the history, the food--but I am going to find the best way to get there. <b>I'm not going to settle for anything less than God's perfect plan for my trip and my life.</b> So I'm mustering all of the guts I possess and trusting that despite the outcome, God is taking care of me. Perhaps Bible school is His best plan, perhaps it isn't. </div>
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No matter what, I will trust in Him. </div>
Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-54327895606092853702012-07-21T20:20:00.001-07:002012-08-10T09:00:52.708-07:00Meeting Fellow Fanatics<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ixPzDMQHXYg/UAtbe3sp5GI/AAAAAAAACoY/x3Xh-NG9TGk/s1600/DSC_0972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="259" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ixPzDMQHXYg/UAtbe3sp5GI/AAAAAAAACoY/x3Xh-NG9TGk/s320/DSC_0972.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>There really isn't anything quite like meeting old friends and realizing that you have more in common than you ever imagined. </b>I've known these two lovely ladies for years, though most of our interactions have been on Facebook and over the phone. Last week, though, all of that changed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I got the opportunity to fly down to Texas and visit Tori and Beebee, two adorable girls I soon discovered to be fellow Britophiles! When I arrived they revealed a penchant for tea, Doctor Who, Jane Austen, and Richard Armitage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just think of my delight! Afternoon tea is a well-established custom in this household, complete with <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2010/06/jammie-dodgers.html">Jammie Dodgers</a>, <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2010/07/digestive-biscuits.html">digestive biscuits</a>, artisan muffins and sugar lumps! I was in <i>ecstasies</i>. We talked about favorite British actors, singers, comedians, etc., and spent way too much time discussing food. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I<span style="background-color: white;"> have these dears to thank for properly introducing me to Doctor Who. I had heard of the show, of course, but had never absorbed much of the love and lore. Now I have watched portions of Tom Baker, Peter Davison, David Tennant, and Matt Smith, and am beginning to appreciate the full depth and scope of this wildly popular series. (Have you ever seen <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwFIu4Demx8">"Don't Blink"</a>? It's an incredible episode.) Would you believe it, my friends were brave enough to take on the enormous task of knitting replicas of Tom Baker's scarf, complete with authentic color palette! We snuggled in these quite often during my stay.</span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x7--BwgCDQM/UAtbcj2JCOI/AAAAAAAACoQ/5l8jt7jp8ts/s1600/DSC_0915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x7--BwgCDQM/UAtbcj2JCOI/AAAAAAAACoQ/5l8jt7jp8ts/s400/DSC_0915.JPG" width="400" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Kippers were a new taste sensation for me. We piled them onto English muffins smeared with stout ale mustard. <i>Mmm! </i>We also tried Fevertree ginger beer, which is a mixer but quite good by itself. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Oh, yes, and who could forget the</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2011/05/marmite-and-vegemite-what-are-they-and.html" style="background-color: white;">Marmite</a><span style="background-color: white;">? I've finally tried it for myself, and know its power firsthand. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I came away from the gourmet shops in Texas with quite a bit of Brit-tastic loot!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Here are a few more discoveries I made with my fellow Britophiles:</span><br />
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<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><b>CBeebies Bedtime Stories: </b>Watch your favorite BBC celebrities read aloud entertaining children's stories! You'll never see <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5K1nyjFvTmo">Alex Kingston</a> or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39lhgxrImHY">David Tennant </a>quite the same way again.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Tea is better in a teacup: </b>Really tiny spoons help too. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>British Accents are Very Fun: </b>I had a blast testing out my Northern accent, my South London, my Yorkshire, etc. Tori and Beebee are wonderful at differentiating dialects.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I Don't Have a Monopoly on Celebrity Crushes: </b>As much as I would like to think that I am one of a select few who adore the looks and talent of such heartthrobs as Alan Rickman and Richard Armitage, alas, I am far from unique. These girls beat me on several fronts. <i>Sigh.</i></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Nobbly and Squidgy: </b>I already knew about the amazing words "scrummy" and "splodged," but these were two new ones to add to my adjectival collection. In case you weren't aware, Hobnobs are nobbly oaty biscuits, <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2012/03/mysterious-jaffa-cake.html">Jaffa Cakes</a> come with a squidgy orangy bit inside, and Jammie Dodgers are scrummy biscuits splodged with raspberry-flavored jam.<b> </b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Traveling is Fun, but Traveling with Friends is Fantastic: </b>You can't beat fellowship, food, and laughter shared together. </span></li>
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Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-54521516252155349222012-07-11T00:00:00.000-07:002012-07-11T00:00:17.650-07:00Flying the Friendly Skies....<br />
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<b>You'll never guess what I'll be doing (God willing) this Friday: going on my first-ever airplane trip!</b></div>
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I've dreamed of flying for years and years, but thought that my first time probably wouldn't come until next April when I plan to fly to England. Now an awesome chance has come up to visit friends in San Antonio, Texas, and I'm taking it! </div>
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As you can probably imagine, I am rather relieved that my first baby steps of travel will not have to be taken on a transatlantic flight. This ought to be great preparation for a flight to Manchester. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>What is your opinion of air travel? Do you have any advice for a newbie? </i></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/87/86D2E6CD25C50775229509A9363F854E.png" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px !important;" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevenfernandez/2271154610/" style="background-color: white; font-size: x-small; line-height: 20px;">Untitled</a><span style="background-color: white; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 20px;">, a photo by</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 20px;"> </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevenfernandez/" style="background-color: white; font-size: x-small; line-height: 20px;">John Steven Fernandez</a><span style="background-color: white; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 20px;">on Flickr.</span></div>Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-85215032659853862802012-07-09T08:45:00.002-07:002012-07-21T20:20:53.499-07:00A Tea Party Treat : Chocolate Torte<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3__szFcpQnM/T_jZXxR2KMI/AAAAAAAACmg/2GIx3MCzn00/s1600/DSC_0442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3__szFcpQnM/T_jZXxR2KMI/AAAAAAAACmg/2GIx3MCzn00/s400/DSC_0442.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
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<b>This absolutely scrumptious, moist, chocolaty fantasy is the second dish that I made for <a href="http://www.picturebritain.com/2012/06/high-tea-lemon-cookies.html">my friend's bridal reception afternoon tea</a>. </b>While tortes are not strictly British, they are a fabulous treat to accompany a proper cup of English tea (Earl Grey with milk, of course). </div>
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A torte is a European style, flourless cake with a crusty outside protecting a rich and luscious interior. The ingredient list is short, and while there are quite a few steps involved, the whole thing is actually quite simple and easy. There is even an <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8hj50zsupE&feature=player_embedded">instructional video</a> to help you out! If you're looking for something to make a smash at your next tea party (or satisfaction for a life-threatening chocolate craving), there's really no excuse for not whipping up this delectable torte! </div>
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The recipe below is slightly edited from one I found at <a href="http://www.joyofbaking.com/ChocolateTorte.html" style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">www.joyofbaking.com</a>, and the photos are all my own :)</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Chocolate Torte</span></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Serves 10 to 25</span></span></div>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">6 large eggs, separated</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 cup (226 grams) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">9 ounces (255 grams) semisweet or bittersweet chocolate chopped</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 cup (200 grams) granulated white sugar, divided</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar</span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">METHOD:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><i>Chocolate + Butter = Heaven</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (177 degrees C) and place oven rack in the center of the oven. Grease a 9 x 3 inch (23 x 8 cm) springform pan. Line bottom of pan with parchment or wax paper.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">3. Place egg yolks and 1/2 cup sugar in the bowl of your electric mixer or a hand mixer (I used our Bosch mixer). Beat on medium high speed until thick and lemon-colored, about 3-5 minutes. (The eggs should have tripled in volume, look thick and soft, and when you lift the beater the mixture falls back into the bowl in a slow ribbon.) Beat in the vanilla extract and melted chocolate mixture.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><i>How did people get stiff peaks before electric mixers?!</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">4. In a clean bowl, with the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites until foamy. Add the cream of tartar and continue beating until soft peaks form. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><i>Fold in the goodness</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">5. Gradually add the remaining 1/2 cup sugar and beat until stiff peaks form. Using a rubber spatula or whisk, fold a small amount of whites into the egg yolk mixture to lighten the batter. Add the remaining egg whites, folding just until incorporated. Do not over-mix or the batter will deflate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">6. Pour into the prepared pan, smoothing the top. Bake the cake for about 50–60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with a few moist crumbs. (During baking the surface of the cake will form a crust which will collapse when the cake is removed from the oven.) </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Remove from oven and place on a wire rack to cool. The top of the cake will have become hard with a cracked surface and lots of crumbs. Serve with softly whipped cream, sprinkle with powdered sugar, or be absolutely decadent and cover it in </span><a href="http://www.joyofbaking.com/ChocolateTorte.html" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">chocolate ganache</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"> (If covering the torte with ganache, cover with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for a few hours or up to a few days.)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><i>Just remember--it's </i>supposed<i> to look like that.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">6. If you make this torte one day ahead this will allow the flavors to meld. This torte will last for days at room temperature, and if refrigerated will take on a moist, brownie like texture. Cut the cake in small slices with a sharp knife, wiping off the knife after slicing each piece. If you have problems cutting the slices, warm the blade of the knife under hot running water before cutting each slice.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><i>Beautifully positioned next to the chocolate covered strawberries and pound cake with lemon curd.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678109107766230334.post-25563234374394990862012-06-30T22:25:00.001-07:002012-07-21T20:21:25.135-07:00High Tea Lemon Cookies<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ws9fGW6yUZo/T-_LUjmZuFI/AAAAAAAACjY/jtRK-e4Eces/s1600/DSC_0395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ws9fGW6yUZo/T-_LUjmZuFI/AAAAAAAACjY/jtRK-e4Eces/s400/DSC_0395.JPG" width="267" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I do enjoy cooking British food, but it's extra special when I get to share it with others. This week I had the immense pleasure of taking part in a delightful bridal reception that doubled as an afternoon tea! </b>We guests had so much fun dressing up and baking loads of goodies, then brewing pots of tea and chatting away the hours. What better way to celebrate love than with good food and good friends?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The menu was decadent: cucumber and egg salad sandwiches, fresh fruit, pound cake, lemon curd, mini scones, clotted cream, homemade jam, chocolate-dipped strawberries...it was <i>heavenly </i>and I ate way too much. I brought two tea treats, a flourless</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">chocolate torte (look for that recipe next week!) and high tea lemon cookies, both of which went over marvelously. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The delicate little cookies were absolutely bursting with lemony goodness! They are cornstarch cookies (Brits may know them better as cornflour cookies), and have a 1-1 ratio of flour to butter, if that gives you some idea of their otherworldly qualities. I found the recipe on </span><a href="http://whatscookingamerica.net/Cookie/HighTeaCookies.htm">whatscookingamerica.net</a> from a self-described expert on afternoon tea, and I saw nothing but glowing comments about these cookies--words like "heavenly" and "absolute favorite" were being bandied about, so I had to try them. After the tea party I had several wide-eyed ladies clamoring for the recipe, s<span style="background-color: white;">o, without further ado, I will share it with all of my fellow Britophiles: </span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">High Tea Lemon Cookies</span></b><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Yields 6 dozen cookies [<span style="font-size: x-small;">if you make them very tiny, I only made 45]</span></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DpMlgYXqdTI/T-_J4mY_xTI/AAAAAAAACi4/2QSpxQTUwBw/s1600/DSC_0349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DpMlgYXqdTI/T-_J4mY_xTI/AAAAAAAACi4/2QSpxQTUwBw/s320/DSC_0349.JPG" width="320" /></a>INGREDIENTS:<br />
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<li><span style="background-color: white;">2 cups butter, room temperature [absolutely not softened or melted!]</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">2/3 cup powdered [confectioners'] sugar</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">1 teaspoon grated lemon zest </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">2 cups all-purpose flour</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">1 1/2 cups cornstarch [no, this isn't a typo]</span></li>
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METHOD:<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rEt-YClogW8/T-_KS9nteaI/AAAAAAAACjA/-ull6LQn23w/s1600/DSC_0363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rEt-YClogW8/T-_KS9nteaI/AAAAAAAACjA/-ull6LQn23w/s320/DSC_0363.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: white;">1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">2. In a large bowl, beat butter until creamy looking. Add powdered sugar; mix until light and fluffy. Add lemon zest and vanilla extract; beat well. Add flour and cornstarch into butter mixture and mix well until well combined. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">NOTE: At first the dough will look dry - but don't worry, as the dough slowly comes together as you mix it and the butter melts into the dry ingredients. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Do not refrigerate this dough, as the butter will harden and make the dough unmanageable for rolling to a ball.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><i>The unsuspecting victims....</i></td></tr>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jQK73Ooux6M/T-_K-sALiuI/AAAAAAAACjQ/47iEeTj4twI/s1600/DSC_0389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jQK73Ooux6M/T-_K-sALiuI/AAAAAAAACjQ/47iEeTj4twI/s400/DSC_0389.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="background-color: white;">3. Using your hands, roll cookie dough into 1-inch balls [I used a cookie baller]. Place onto ungreased cookie sheets and bake 15 minutes or until bottoms are light brown. Remove from oven, carefully remove from baking sheet, and cool on wire cooling racks [when warm the cookies are delicate].</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>That's my dear mother doing the dipping!</i></td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">Lemon Frosting</span></b><br />
INGREDIENTS:<br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">1/6 cup butter, room temperature </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">1/6 to 1/4 cup freshly-squeezed lemon juice</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">2 cups powdered (confectioners') sugar</span></li>
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<span style="background-color: white;">METHOD:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">1. In a medium bowl, combine butter, lemon zest, lemon juice, and powdered sugar; stir until well mixed.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">2. Thin the frosting with additional lemon juice if needed, then dip the tops of the cookies into it.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><i>The little bits of zest in the frosting add just the right touch!</i></td></tr>
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As I said, these little beauties were a triumph, and just perfect with a piping hot cup of tea! <span style="background-color: white;">I hope that you will all have the opportunity to make them for yourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Do you have a favorite tea treat? Sweet or savory? </span></i> </span></div>Abigail Rogershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10367841843553939505noreply@blogger.com0