Waiting for Wellies

Spring WILL come

First off, I have a problem with the word “wellies” - or any word with “ies” tacked on at the end: veggies, brekkie,eggy, sammies (somehow I find sarnies more tolerable); toasties…sweeties are at least meant for children so I don’t mind those so much.

But practically speaking, wellies it is, as saying Wellingtons sounds pretentious and Wellington boots is just taking up too much of everyone’s time. Garden boots, rubber boots, gumboots - call them whatever you like to call them - the thing is I need them. Now.

This is my new life in England. I am currently fully inhabiting this small town/ country bumpkin persona, not the glamorous jetsetter trendsetter cosmopolitan siren I imagined I’d be at this point in my life, or even the shopping cart-lugging, Gristede’s shopping (does Gristede’s —that only in New York urbane overpriced supermarket chain—even exist anymore?) bagel-buying museum-visiting sophisticate who’s let herself go but still cleans up well I would of course transform into, even though I left the city over twenty five years ago. Maybe I AM those things a little bit too, when called for, but since we’re the result of our life choices I need garden boots because I’m spending a lot of time out there and Doc Martens just won’t cut it. Their treads soak up the earth where it dries and then crumbles all over the house. (To be honest, I’m never really been a Doc Martens person but thought they would cover a lot of footwear bases over here and I’m still adjusting-but no to wearing them to work outside). The only answer is dedicated footwear to work in the garden: wellies that stay by the door and don’t come in.

My interactions with other people IRL have been pretty minimal. I DO have my first show of the year here in Norwich on Fri 14th March at the American Library which is a memorial to US servicemen who lost their lives serving in Norfolk in WWII. It’ll be a chance to read from my first book AND a piece or two from Girl To Country which I’ve been revising steadily and plan to have out in October. I’m remembering working on Girl To City and how at times I thought I wouldn’t survive— I wonder why anyone would put themselves through this madness. I’m ready to wrap this book up (I started it in 2020) so I can move on with my life, but there’s only one chance to make it as good, honest and readable as possible and that’s um…now, before it’s published.

Here’s the info for my Norwich event at the American Library - it’s FREE

I just came back from my first yoga class in our small town. It was challenging, not in a physical way but being in a roomful of strangers made me feel vulnerable and insecure in a way I don’t think I want to have to work through right now. Since the pandemic, I’ve been perfectly happy doing yoga alone at home, except for back in our old town when Lex Grey who was such a wonderful teacher would lead summer classes right down at the edge of the Hudson River-those were some of the best moments of the summer months for me. This class at our local fitness center is popular, filled with people who must be our neighbors, mostly over the age of fifty. Why do I feel like a new kid at school in these situations, I’m as old as most of them? I asked a lady what the deal was, mat-wise, is there some protocol for who goes where or…it’s never obvious! Everyone’s mats were sideways instead of facing the teacher with your mat front to back and I didn’t dare do something different - here’s where the foreigner status, especially being an American, makes me cringe into silence because who am I to tell these good folks how to set up their class, they’ll only brand me the bossy American —at the same time I’ve been to plenty of yoga studios at this point in my life and might have something helpful to offer. But my inclination is to try and fit in as much as possible, if everyone’s got their mats sideways I can’t be the person who’s back to front. It wasn’t a bad class otherwise but maybe I’m happier just doing my practice at home …or maybe I’ll make the trek into Norwich forty five minutes away which will likely be much more anonymous and maybe even challenging in a yoga way, not a feng shui way. So much of life is choosing the correct venue.

Spring IS coming and the garden is calling me. If you’re worried this is going to turn into a gardening newsletter, I promise I’ll have more stuff to talk about eventually.

Out in the garden with the snow drops and crocuses

Oh, there was a stumble on the bus pass front (dear Lord, who AM I?) It wasn’t as simple as I made it out to be in an earlier post. The only way to fill in the council form application was to have a National Insurance Number, and all I had was a Resident #, so I needed to apply for a national insurance one, kind of like a Social Security number in the US. On the back of my Residence Card it says “no recourse to public funds” so I’m in a kind of grey area here - IS a bus pass public funds? These are the challenges of moving to another land and you just have to face them head on. You can read websites and books How To Do It but they’ll never cover everything and who has time for those books anyways? I can imagine lots of my fellow Americans are looking into the feasibility of moving to another country now but…there’s no easy answer to anything! It’s taken months to get in to see a periodontist here in England and it’s not paid for by the National Health. I DID score a National Insurance Number though and am waiting to see if they’ll let me have that bus pass that let’s you ride for free.

And…the crocuses are out. The daffodils are coming. The sea is just twenty minutes away. We love our house, and friends who live nearby. Going to see Chuck Prophet play this week, and the Dory Previn documentary my friends made is showing in London next week, as well as my dear friend Angela Jaeger’s book event for her punk diaries I Feel Famous at Rough Trade in Denmark Street. The rain is going to stop for a while next week. Eric’s pulling together an album, and I WILL finish shaping up this book. My daughter has a new job and seems happy. Life is challenging right now for everyone. I’m waiting for my wellies and spring to come.