OK, OK, I appreciate I may have upset one or two Brits with my last post, suggesting that Cool Britannia was turning into chav central. As I was trying to spot kangaroos while driving down the road the other day, it occurred to me that I may have violated one of the rules of British humour: self deprecation. After all, if you're poking fun at the Motherland from a safe distance overseas, then the bottom line is you're just taking the p*ss. To a Brit, it's only really acceptable to do this if you're resident in the country and suffering like everyone else.
So let me say that I am proud to be British. I am even proud to say I'm from Blackpool... sometimes. Living abroad seems to focus the mind on what your nationality means to you. This might be due to the impression it makes on people you meet, or it could just be down to the everyday things you miss about home.
Whilst studying at an international campus, it has been interesting to observe the reactions of lecturers and fellow students on finding out I'm a pom. Instantly, they have a frame of reference; something they can talk to you about. Usually, the lecturers have spent time in the UK and in lectures they like to invite me to comment on issues from a UK perspective. But students will ask anything: From wanting to know if everywhere in Britain is like it is on Shameless, to asking if my parents live in a castle. Recently, a Japanese student asked me if the English really were proud of their well known hero, William Wallace (Braveheart)! My usual effort to make a connection with the other students is along the lines of, "So...er.. where exactly is Taiwan then?" Yes folks, it's good to be a Brit abroad.
One of the things I have missed while living overseas is the cultural references you have in common when chatting to other poms. Being British means different things to different people depending on their circumstances. But here's a not very definitive list from a thirty something, occasionally homesick pom - ette (?):
Terry Wogan in the mornings, Chris Evans on the way home, Jonathan Ross on Friday nights, frosty mornings, autumn trees, winter evenings next to a coal fire, being offered endless cups of tea, Sunday lunch in the local village pub, dinners in the curry house, sarcasm, good music, the Lake District, not having enough traffic police around to spoil my racing other cars down the A43 at Silverstone...oh, the list goes on....
It is of course a highly romanticised view which does not take into account rude shop assistants, horrid town centres, huge traffic jams and painfully overpriced petrol. But no doubt I'll be whinging happily about all that when I next visit Blighty in July. Bring on the bad weather and mediocre food (excepting curry of course) - I can't wait!
On a recent trip to visit Ant (my Auzzie husband)'s family in Melbourne one of his friends asked me if we have public swimming pools in the UK!!!
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