The medals table

The Vol-in-Law, who does not watch much sports, was watching the Olympics this morning. "We've won another medal," he reported.

The British are, apparently, delighted with their medals haul. "We've been doing well," he says. "Now how will we match this performance in 2012?" he wonders.

We. We. We. We.

It occurs to me that he includes me in this we. Like I'm thrilled that Britain's doing well.

Nope. I have to tell him, that though it's true I support the England football team - I don't give a stuff about the Team GB - the ridiculous name for the British Olympic athletes.

It's USA all the way for me, baby. Every medal scored by any other country is just one less medal than we deserve.

In the interests of global peace and security

I don't believe it! Gordon Brown has finally said something doesn't make me queasy. He wants to expand the Anglosphere, by deepening relations between Britain and America, or so he says in the Wall Street Journal. And he has a whole host of policy prescriptions backed by nebulous spending commitments.

And since our little family embodies the Anglo-American bond, we should get a grant. In the interests of global peace and security, of course.



British and American

Lottery

Oregon is running a lottery for places in its state run health insurance scheme. The BBC takes its usual sneering tone for stories on America, but in this instance it's probably deserved.

Vol Repatriated?

Will the Vol Abroad be a Vol Repatriated? Lately with the low dollar, the real estate market supposedly in crisis and London house prices remaining steady I've fantasised a little bit about taking our London equity and throwing it at the Tennessee housing market. The Vol-in-Law and I have independently spent time looking at Nashville (him) and Knoxville (me) home searches. The other day I found the perfect house (though not in my perfect neighborhood) and I imagined my new life in every room.

Problem is, we'd need jobs, you know to keep eating and stuff. And my career has been built into kind of a niche thing that doesn't really exist in the US. And his job isn't exactly one of those things that you can find on every street corner either.

And when the ViL came home today telling me someone he came in contact with through his work had died, probably from complications of tuberculosis. I was like - we have to get out of here. (I have a bit of a TB phobia and once left a job because I thought my miniscule exposure risk was entirely too high).

I'm seriously thinking about setting up a PayPal repatriation fund. How much do you think the Brits would pay to get rid of me?

It's like groundhog day

If I'm not mistaken, tomorrow is Groundhog Day. In Britain that has no resonance. At least no weather predicting resonance. Instead when folks here say "It's like Groundhog Day," they're not saying today will be a bellweather for the next six weeks, they're saying "It's like deja vu - all over again." It means that the same [stupid] thing happens again and again and again. Based purely on that film.

And each and every year, when I say "Hey, I think it's Groundhog Day," they say "Is that for real?"

And I explain about the weather predicting abilities of Punxsatawney Phil and how we'll have six more weeks of winter - or not. I have to do it every year. It's like Groundhog Day deja vu all over again.

Funnily enough the origin of Groundhog Day is not some kooky American nonsense, but rather is steeped in European superstition - Candlemas Day -which falls midway between Winter and Spring Solstice according to a Groundhog Day history page. Or as they used to say in England:

If Candlemas be fair and bright,
Winter has another flight.
If Candlemas brings clouds and rain,
Winter will not come again.

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I'm preempting the Pennsylvanian rodent and guessing that there will be six more weeks of winter. Blehhh.

He's an American boy

Today we finally got to the US Embassy to register the birth of an American child. Our child, Buddy. After the calamity of trying to find our marriage papers which we needed (apparently) and requesting a last minute copy of my high school transcripts to prove I'd been in the US for a period of time, we were pretty convinced that we'd be missing something essential. Or that somehow the US Embassy records would be linked the University of Tennessee's traffic citation section and that Buddy couldn't get his passport until I'd paid off my brother's campus parking tickets. And that was before we left the house.

We were only a little bit late leaving the house, but we didn't reckon on the fact that we'd have to queue up in the rain (stupid really) or that all the sidewalks and the road in front of the embassy were completely torn up as part of a "beautification" effort. The US Embassy is one of if not the ugliest buildings in that area of London, and it takes more than a new forecourt and little bit of window cleaning to beautify that thing. If I weren't afraid that it might be construed as a terrorist threat, I'd say that only a stick of dynamite could beautify that building. But anyway, why lie? They're not beautifying - they're bolstering the security cordon, which does need doing.

Another couple nipped ahead of us in the queue, so we were a couple of minutes late for our appointment, otherwise we'd have been there on the stroke of eleven.

Now, when I say appointment, I assume that means we'll meet up at the appointed time (or slightly later since I'm punctuality challenged) and we'll discuss stuff and then we'll part having accomplished something.

When the Federal Gummint says appointment, they mean that's the earliest that you should show up to wait in their well appointed waiting room.

I digress:
A few words on the waiting room. It's oddly transatlantic. The snack machine is stocked with oreos and Hershey bars and pretzels and Reese's Cups (American snacks not usually found in British vending machines and Scottish shortbread and flapjacks (oaty bars).

The signs say "Please place your rubbish in the bins" and "Please place your trash in the bin".

There were a few toys in the corner and posters suggesting that we register to vote and a lot of families with small babies who looked they'd already been waiting a very long time. A very, very long time. And if I thought that long waits for officialdom were bad when I had sudoku and a novel to keep me occupied - well, with a little baby they're that much worse.

We also waited a long time and I had rehearsed my explanation of why I didn't have the exact dates of my various entries and exits from the US. Like my one evening trip over the border to Ciudad Juarez. I can't recall the exact date, but the buckets of Corona were mas barato.

Anyway, I don't know exactly what checks they do - but they didn't want my high school transcripts (though it was interesting to see how my memories of high school matched up with my permanent record) Nor did they want the sordid tale of the one night in Mexico and the buckets of Corona and goodness knows what else. But they took the papers away and deemed that I qualified as sufficiently American to pass my rights along to Buddy. We swore or affirmed some stuff and paid a lot of money - almost $200 for the paperwork including first passport and £15 for the new passport and social security card to be sent to Master Buddy Vol-in-Law. And then they told us that Buddy was indeed American - and with this finding he had, in fact, been American all along.

We were warned - strongly - by the Consular official not to lose this very important piece of paper. And we tried, very hard, to give him a look like "Who us? Do we look like the kind of people who would lose such a thing?"

And one day, son you could be President

Or maybe not. I had heard that if you got this retroactive citizenship certificate, that meant that your child wouldn't be denied the opportunity to sit behind the desk at the Oval Office just because that American was foolish enough to be born on foreign soil. On our explanatory paperwork that accompanies the certificate of a Consular Report of a Birth Abroad that proves that Buddy was always American is this nifty little paragraph:

Running for President or for Congress
Legal scholars disagree whether someone born overseas to a US parent or parents is considered a "natural born Citizen" one of the Constitutional requirements to become President of the United States. The courts have never made any definitive ruling on this section of the Constitution. One US Senator introduced a bill in October 2004, however, to clarify what this term actually means. If this bill becomes law, your child would definitively be considered a "natural born Citizen" of the US and therefore could run for the White House. At ay rate, as an American citizen your child can indeed run for Congress, even though born overseas,....

and then the kicker

...but he/she would still have to meet the Constitutional residency and age requirements to run for the House or Senate.

So no matter how well your little tot can press the flesh and work the room and raise money and no matter how bright you think their political future ought to be they still have to wait til they're way past kindergarten.

But I guess the point is, it's never actually been tested by the courts. Anyway, I wouldn't want Buddy to be President. I wouldn't want those pesky reporters looking into Mommy's colorful past. And besides, who would want to vote for a guy who said:

My fellow Americans, I end tonight where it all began for me- I still believe in a place called Tooting.


Buddy's first passport pictures

Traffic

Today we were stuck in a traffic jam. Not really a surprise in a city of over 7 million people with a road system designed in the day of the horse and cart.

But the cause of the jam was a back up of demolition derby cars on their carriers trying to enter demolition derby arena.

I didn't leave Lawrenceburg, Tennessee and travel across a mighty ocean to live in one the most cosmpolitan (and expensive) cities in the world to be stuck behind a beat up, windowless car with a name like the Spud-a-nator.

Just sayin'.

Sicko crosses the pond

Michael Moore's film Sicko is finally being shown in British cinemas*. I'm sure many Brits will take this as an opportunity to gloat and to bask in the reflected glory of the sacred status of the National Health Service. Apparently, Mr Moore paints an overly rosy portrait of the NHS.

Don't get me wrong. I'm like many who can say "At least it's there." I've used the service for the normal, the chest infections and the sprains. I've used it for the stupidly self-inflicted wounds (I got glass in my eye from an art project gone wrong). I've used it during my pregnancy and emergency c-section. And through all that, I've never paid a penny for services and I've paid very little for prescriptions. Although, of course, I have paid. I pay through my taxes.

I've probably experienced some of the worst of the NHS. London gets a raw deal from most national services. We really don't get what we pay for. I could complain a lot about my maternal care. I didn't have a continuous relationship with any single person on the obstetrical staff. The conditions in the post-partum ward were extremely unpleasant (lack of privacy, noisy, hot and piss-poor decor**) and I rarely saw the same professional twice. But on the upside, they supported my home birth until I passed out of their clinical guidelines (baby was 16 days late). I could have chosen another, prettier hospital. But the hospital I chose was across the street from our house and is a center of excellence for obstetrical emergencies. And, at least, it was there.

And I never had to worry about how I was going to pay or what it was going to cost.

I never had to skip appointments because I couldn't pay. I never had to negotiate a payment plan with a hospital and hope it didn't go to c-section because then I'd have a bill I couldn't afford. This happened to women on the American baby discussion forum I participate in. Some folks on this forum even now have worries about their babies' health but are putting off visits to a pediatrician because they're waiting for new insurance to kick in.

We all know that there are problems with American health care, but there are problems with the NHS, too. Just different problems. Problems which Michael Moore didn't raise: From Peter Bradshaw's review of Sicko in The Guardian.

By way of contrast, Moore visits those countries with free healthcare: Canada, France and Britain. And this last visit is the one to make us sit up. With much elaborate comedy and saucer-eyed cod-acting, Moore visits the NHS hospital of Hammersmith in London, and deploying many a gasp and double-take, refuses to believe that the sick folks aren't charged hundreds and thousands of dollars. He doesn't mention the waiting lists, the filth, the degrading mixed wards and the MRSA that are a staple of all media coverage of the National Health Service. So perhaps he's got a starry-eyed view of our healthcare.

And he goes on to suggest that maybe Mr Moore has the right idea:

But isn't it obtuse to focus so excitably on what goes wrong with our health service, when so much more routinely goes right and when, incidentally, there are those with a vested interest in promoting these scare stories as an excuse for privatising it? Isn't it, for all its faults, exactly the miracle that Michael Moore portrays it?

Actually, no. The NHS is not the miracle that Mr Moore portrays. It's a system, designed by humans. Humans with good intentions, but humans who get things wrong. Like all systems it has its flaws. And when we ignore the flaws and make the system sacrosanct then we have no chance to learn from other systems and to correct those flaws, to innovate and improve.

The same with the American healthcare system. It's not the envy of the world any more. It's inadequate and does not provide the American people what they pay for. It's the most expensive health care system in the world and it's no longer delivering the best outcomes.

But yet, there are some really good things about American health care. There are some wonderful things that need to be kept and nurtured. Americans, like the British, need to look with a clear eye to their health care, keep what's right and fix what's wrong.


________________

*I won't be seeing it - at least not in the cinema. I don't like the cinema and what with the baby and all, it's not really easy. But I anxiously await the DVD release.

** You can say that this matters little, but I think that people do fare better in nicer surroundings. Partly things were bad because I gave birth in June - and a new maternity ward was due to open in September.

WWAJD? or spelling made simple

WWAJD? or WWOHD? What would Andrew Jackson do? Always a good way to guide one's life. Except perhaps in matters of Indian affairs, bigamy and settlements of personal disputes.

But Ol' Hickory had his own wisdom, that's for sure.


I once had a very annoying, anti-American colleague who went on and on and (effing on) about the superiority of the English language to the American language. Dumbass. Are you so attached to those superfluous Us? Do you really care if I say toMAYto? Let's please call the whole thing off, I said.

He would neither cease nor desist. I thought of filing a complaint of racist bullying, but couldn't be bothered with the paperwork. So I said to myself WWAJD? And since I'm not in possession of a pair of carefully crafted, mother of pearl inlaid dueling pistols, I dragged out this quotation.

"It's a damn poor mind that can only think of one way to spell a word."

And that did it. (Image of AJ's dueling pistols from the fabulous image blog - Shorpy).

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Mel has an interesting post about spelling simplification. Which attracts some interesting comments. That I couldn't be bothered with, because the spelling was impenetrable. See:

The unpredictability of ireggular spelling makes lerning to reed and rite unecessarily difficult for menny lerners. Because of repeeted lak of success in thare riting menny kids just giv up.

English societys worldwide hav a 20% plus illitracy rate. Is this what u and your commentators (amung the lucky ones who hav coped with English spelling) reely want?

Argggh... What the hell are you saying?

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Living in England for over a decade has altered my spelling. I do try to keep my spellings separate - American for American audiences, British for British audiences. I rarely manage this. At work, I do my dead level best to spell in a British way. I'm paid from the public pound, writing about English affairs for an almost exclusively British audience. As an immigrant, I feel it's the least I can do. Thank goodness for spell check - just have to make sure the dang thing's on Brit spelling as MS Word has an unfortunate tendency to autonomously switch to American spelling and make me look an arrogant language imperialist.

On this blog, regular readers will have noted, that my spelling is all mixed up and I'll switch back and forth within the same post. I am a poor proofer and I swear trying to spell two ways has made me a far poorer speller overall. I hope no one minds too much.

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There are a number of online communities for pregnant women and new moms/mums. I used one that had both American and British online spaces. It's been a really interesting experience seeing what people got worked up about on different sides of the ponds. But most interesting of all has been the quality of the posts.

Somewhat surprisingly, British posters overall have far poorer language and spelling skills. Truly appalling. Not the occasional typo or easily misspelled word. But a clear failure to master the bottom line basics of English spelling - particularly around homophones. You know...their/there/they're - that kind of thing. I don't know if this represents a clear failure of the British educational system*, a different section of society posting in the UK v. America, or maybe clear evidence in support of the spelling simplification society. After all, those superfluous Us must have a greater effect on:

The unpredictability of ireggular spelling makes lerning to reed and rite unecessarily difficult for menny lerners.

_________
*I truly suspect this one - see All Must Have Prizes by Melanie Phillips

California emissions standard

I used to love to watch The Price is Right with VolBro - especially sitting in the easy chairs in my grandparents bedroom - but anywhere really. VolBro was a natural - he was usually right - even when he was a little tiny kid with no money or shopping experience of his own.

He was very good on guessing the price of cars - often guessing what I thought was quite high. When I'd voice my doubts, he'd pipe up in his little 6 year old voice "you can't forget the California emissions - that always makes it higher." And he was right.

I can't say that I built my life around TPIR (as my grandmother sometimes did), but I really enjoyed it.

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When I moved to the UK, I had to leave behind TPIR. Well, sorta. There is a British version of the show, but it's only a half an hour. There's no showcase showdown - the showcase contestant competes against a randomly selected margin of error (though of course, one can never go over on the price). There's no reminder to spay or neuter your pets. California emissions do not come as standard - and there's no Bob Barker.

Sure, there's Plinko and the other little games I knew and loved. But there's no Bob Barker. And I can't but watch the show without thinking "Hey, this guy isn't Bob Barker." The show has since been cancelled and I can't help but think - without the refined dignity of Bob Barker (the British version always seemed kinda sleazy) - it's no wonder that it didn't work out.

Now America will have to watch TPIR with the interior monologue running "Hey, this guy isn't Bob Barker." Although, there's some speculation that folks may be saying "Hey, this gal isn't Bob."

Bob retired this month - his last show airing on Friday. It makes me a little sad.

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My cousin Blake won a car on TPIR. He gave it to his mother. It had California emissions standard.

Materialistic jubilation and bitter ironies

If you wait long enough, home comforts will come to you. A product line I missed desperately in my early days in the UK has finally arrived from across the Atlantic. Unlike pumpkin pie filling, I found no reasonable substitute (making it from scratch, which turns out to be soooo much better anyway - living in the wilds of Britain has liberated me from the tyranny of branded and pre-processed ingredients). Unlike Karo syrup, I found no exclusive and expensive supply (at Selfridges) or a reasonable, but imperfect facsimile (Golden Syrup).

No, it just wasn't available and nothing came close.

And no, sadly, it's not SunDrop - but something almost as good.

The Sharpie. Yes, the Sharpie is finally available in the UK. I haven't seen it in stores, but I have seen it advertised on tv.


(Image ripped from the official Sharpie site)

Yes, I am a stationery fetishist - but the Sharpie is the supreme permanent marker - it will write on almost anything - as I learned during my undergraduate days as a geology student - marking many, many rock samples with barely a dimunition in flow.

And sure my needs for a permanent marker are less than they used to be, but when you need a Sharpie you need a Sharpie.

And now I can get one here in the UK.

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And then there 's the ironic twist worthy of O'Henry

Now that I can get a Sharpie, is just the time when my household may not be best suited for permanent markers.



Image ripped from here

The mountain laurel

Regular readers may know that I'm quite fond of visiting Richmond Deer Park and since becoming pregnant we've gone even more regularly. It's not smoky, focused on drinking and the long walks are healthful and relaxing. And recently, walking is the only thing that reduces the increasingly uncomfortable swelling in my feet and legs.

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In the Spring, the most beautiful part of the park is the Isabella Plantation - a fenced in area (to keep the deer out) known for its magnolias, azaleas and rhododendrons. There are great drifts of azaleas to rival to the most ambitious dogwood-trailer in Knoxville (but of course, there are no dogwoods).

On Sunday, we went a way I hadn't gone before and I noticed an enormous mountain laurel. It must have been very old, because laurel as extremely slow growing. It wasn't yet in full bloom.




I pointed it out to the Vol-in-Law. I was pretty excited, because it's a native of the Eastern US - and a formerly favorite plant of mine (since I worked at a garden center I had a lot of favorite plants) and I've always liked the unusual crinkled flower buds. Its latin name is Kalmia latifolia. Apparently, it was once very fashionable among the plant collectors of Europe (probably because it is so slow growing and a little picky about conditions). I don't know if the variety pictured above is anything special, but you can now buy cultivars which are quite showy and useful in a partly shaded, acidic garden.

Linnaeus, the father of modern taxonomy, himself named this plant after a friend. I told all this to the ViL - and how I'd also read recently that Linnaeus named nasty plants - like stinkweed - after his critics and detractors.

The unsolicted comment

In England, unlike America, the unsolicited comment is frowned upon. You can't just - as a passer by - say "Nice suit" or "That dog sure is frisky." (In some circumstances you may make an unsolicited comment about the weather.) I have to admit - I like being free from the unsolicited comment - at least on the receiving side. But like many Americans, I do like to make unsolicited comments. I do my best to refrain.

But as we were still admiring the Kalmia, a couple came upon the shrub and were discussing amongst themselves what it might be. They determined that it was more like a rhododendron than a rose. That's the right approach to plant ID. What's it like? What might it be related to? But comparing it to a rose is just ridiculous. I interjected. "It's a laurel, a Mountain Laurel." (It did have a tag, but it was pretty well hidden and read only Kalmia latifolia).

They were surprised. They thanked me. I refrained from adding anything else (like it's native range, growth habit or use in the garden) But as we moved on I asked the ViL if I had been totally out of line. He said no, that he thought they were crying out for information.

Can I get some service?

There are some issues that I have to admit I don't care about anymore. Issues that I felt quite strongly about at one point, but which have now - like the sands through the hour glass - passed me by.

For example:

Pre-18 voting. It burned me up that I turned 18 in a general election year (May), but was unable to vote in the primary. I really wanted to vote for Al Gore. But I didn't get my chance, since that other fellow - who was it? - some guy from Massachusetts got the nomination instead. Boy, did that turn out good.

Policy prescription: Those eligible to vote in the November general election shall be able to vote in their respective state's primary.

How much do I care about this policy now? Not at all.

I kinda got over my disappointment about getting to cast my ballot for Al in 1988. After all, I got another shot in 2000. Sadly, and to my eternal shame, I actually didn't bother to return my expat ballot that year. I thought Al would be a sure thing in our mutual home state of Tennessee. Nope. And without Tennessee, Florida really mattered. Boy, did that turn out good.

But there was one age based policy that took me years to get over. The drinking age. Just about the time that I could start to imagine turning 18*, states were one by one succumbing to the threat of removal of Federal Highways Matching funds and raising their drinking age. But I thank those legislators. For without their meddling, I might have been a law abiding citizen instead of the scofflaw you know today. 'Cause - get real - I wasn't not gonna drink at 18. Thank you for freeing me from any sense of obligation to obeying your petty, arbitrary rules and poorly enforced misdemeanor laws.

Policy prescription: Drinking age of 18 or 19. If you're worried about deaths on the highways, throw in tougher penalties for drunk driving, including revocation of driving license until 21 for anyone registering any blood alcohol content while in charge of a moving vehicle.

How much do I care about this policy now? Well, the threat of prosecution still stings, and I do think it's a bit silly to wait 'til 21 - but really I don't care that much. And I have to admit to a certain kind of schadenfreude - if I had to suffer, so should you.

But I still thought it was interesting when Bob Krumm, Tennessee blogger and political aspirant, suggested lowering the drinking age.

One of the things, that we used to say in our salad days was "Over in Europe, you can drink at 18. Over in Europe, they let children drink a little and then it's not that big of a deal when you get older and people don't get so drunk."

Well, I'm over in Europe now (sadly having moved here well after I turned 21). And that all seems to be true. Well, once you get onto the Continent anyway. The legal age in the UK is 18. And for many years, British people liked to have a go at me for stupid, puritanical American drinking laws (talk about blaming the victim), usually in drunken conversations down the pub.

But kids are certainly able to obtain alcohol from a much younger age (though there has been more emphasis on proof of age lately). And sadly, alcohol is probably not handled well in the Anglo-Saxon family. These kids get stupid drunk and cause problems. They get stupid drunk at 18, too. In fact, the British are pretty well known for maintaining their ability to get stupid drunk well into their majority.

But, now - and rather ironically - folks in the UK are starting to think about raising the drinking age to 21. Well known, think tanks are suggesting a review of the minimum drinking age.


And what do I think about raising the drinking age? Well, I've been there done that and I don't think it makes much difference.

David Poley, chief executive of the Portman Group, said: "What we really need to do is change the drinking culture through education rather than making drinking a social taboo by raising the legal drinking age."

Sensible talk from the Portman Group (an alcohol manufacturers' lobby - BTW), but the real tough thing is finding the policy prescription that achieves that aim.

_______
* bless the City of New Orleans, which kept their 18 limit at the time I was 18. Maybe I shoulda gone to Tulane.

t-28: dual heritage

I've got behind on the Cletus countdown posts. I've been busy having fun with my friend visiting from San Francisco.

I just hope falling behind doesn't make Cletus late.

Guess what else was late, the first book the my husband ordered the baby. In fact, it was about four months late.

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The Vol-in-Law ordered a book called Our Island Story - basically British imperial propaganda for small children - in its centenary edition. He ordered it before Christmas for baby Cletus - to make sure that he's properly proud of his British ancestry.

Unfortunately, the book did not arrive and did not come and there was no sign of it for months. But this morning, there was a knock on the door - and a package was handed over - and it was Our Island Story.

I had a quick flip through, and suggested that we might have to skip the chapter called "How America was lost," lest there be any conflicting messages for the young boy.

My husband immediately began to read aloud from the book and such phrases rang from my ears:

• But the Americans were not meek at all. They made ready to fight.
• The colonists looked upon Britain as their mother-country...and now for a want of a little kindly feeling and understanding between them, mother and children were fighting bitterly.
• [The war minister Pitt advised] "You cannot conquire America. They are of our own blood. If I were an American as I am an Englishman, I would never lay down my arms - never, never, never."

And he said, "I don't think you need to censor this at all."

Anyway, I guess this was our first cross-cultural parenting "discussion".

28 27 days til baby Cletus

As an ambassador

I went to France when I was 15. Before I left, VolMom reminded me that everywhere I went I was an ambassador for my country, my culture and my family. (Just no diplomatic immunity).

Tomorrow, I'll have a very unpleasant ambassadorial task.

Tomorrow, my British co-workers will ask me why.

Opposition and web 2.0

Girl from the South has an interesting post on the Republican Party and Web 2.0 - that is, why aren't they down with it?

She opines (and I'm paraphrasing quite a bit) that it's partly about whose in power in the party and the youth vote and all that and a growing divide between the old crusty party apparatchiks and the youthful foot soldiers for whom life without the Net is unimaginable.

Well, partly. But she herself points out that Howard Dean neatly got it. He didn't just use it, he worked it. As a member of the Democratic Party (but not a Dean supporter), I was a pretty amazed but just how fired up his supporters were and many remain. Howard Dean's early presidential campaign and new style of leadership were transformational for those folks (and actually for the rest of the party, too - just in a less obvious way). And let's face it, Howard Dean isn't exactly an under-35-er. But he managed to capture the real power of the social internet - where people at a distance collaborate online and people close by actually meet up and get stuff done.

Rather than something inherent in conservative or liberal approaches or the Republican or Democrat parties. I think there's something about opposition.

Here in the UK, the Conservatives are leaps ahead of Labour when it comes to the use of social media. Take Conservative Home, for example. It was groundbreaking in the UK. Or 18 Doughty Street (British conservative "web tv"). And these aren't sites that are part of the official Conservative Party - in fact, contributors to these sites can be quite critical of party leaders and party policy. But folks like George Osborne (the Shadow Chancellor) who I saw recently speaking on such matters (and open source government) at least say that they embrace this grass-roots online movement. (And they probably do for now - Osborne is a bit of a Geek, but he also understands the need for buzz).

What do top Labour thinkers do? Well, folks like Matthew Taylor (Labour policy and research guru) criticise blogs and bloggers. The entrenched Left in the UK resist the power of the grassroots, because - well, because they can. And so long as Labour is in power, the entrenched Left can see online activists as nothing but a threat (whether they come from the Left or the Right).

Even when Labour does copy some of the concepts that Conservative activists are using they do so in such a hack-handed way - (e.g. Labour Home - c'mon guys get a new name - and anyway that sounds like a lock-up institution for unwed mothers). Labour isn't going to get with it until they get out of power. Failure and desperation to return to Government is what makes people innovate and strive in a (largely) two-party state.

That isn't to say that the Right hasn't had their day in the US. Think back to the early days massively popular talk radio - before the Internet was in everyone's home. Who dominated there? The Right - and in some instances it was kinda, even like a real conversation. Who still dominates talk radio? The Right - despite efforts like Air America or Nashville's Liberadio.

So how does that play out for GFTS's fears for an unwired Republican party? I'm not sure - maybe like the American left they won't be able to catch on to new media. One thing's for sure - so long as Republicans feel they're in power (in the White House), the current power structure isn't likely to move over to make room for the grass roots geek.

And I can't say that breaks my heart.

Whatever the weather

On our trip to RHS Wisley (botannical gardens just South of Greater London) last week, we passed by the weather station. It's all rain gauges and wind gauges and the weird little boxes these things are kept in (they look like cock-fighting sheds) to protect the weather instruments from the weather.

And then I noticed something odd, up on a platform and beneath a traditional weather vane.



What is that...is that a, yes it is, it's a crystal ball.



Is that some kind of meteorologist joke? Those guys are corkers, clearly.

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On Monday, I went to the local B&Q (a kind of Home Depot knock off) and got some bedding plants. I bought some Sweet William and some white impatiens. I planted out the Sweet William, as they have some frost hardiness, but the impatiens will have to remain in their trays for a little while longer. See, I have something even better than the a crystal ball to predict the weather. I have Tennessee.

Two weeks ago, Tennessee was experiencing unseasonably warm weather.
Now in England we are experienceing unseasonably warm weather - it's absolutely lovely, y'all let me tell you.

Then Tennessee got bit in the ass by ol' Jack Frost.
And if trends go as they usually do, Jack's got his transatlantic flight already booked.

Look out for frost, fellow English gardeners

Family focused policy

Over at the Tennessee Guerilla Women, there's a call for minimum paid maternity leave in the US. The crapness of maternity benefits in the US reminds me in many ways why I'm lucky to be having my baby here.

Everyone in the UK who's been employed for a minimum length of time (and I think it's basically so you weren't pregnant when you were hired) gets 6 weeks paid leave at 90% of their salary plus and additional 34 weeks (it's around that) at £108 a week (that's about $200).

I get more because my employer offers more - and I've been working for them for quite some time. They aren't the most generous and they aren't the most stingy. They are a bit lazy - and haven't come out with a new policy since the law changed - but they tell me that the proposed policy will be that I receive my statutory 90% for the first six weeks and then I'll get the 34 weeks at half my salary plus that £108 a week. So essentially I'll get 9 months with not bad pay considering I'll not be doing any work for them. I can take an additional 3 months off with no pay, but they have to hold my job for me - and then I can take my remaining vacation days - which will accrue as normal while I'm off, and well, I get a fair bit of leave. Twenty-eight days in fact.

I can also take parental leave of a fairly generous amount of time up until my kid is 5. You don't get paid though - so I haven't looked into it. But basically you can use that time if your kid gets critically ill and your job is protected - in some ways it's probably not much different from the Family Medical Leave Act.

They also have to at least consider my request for part time work after I go back to work - and any refusal must be in writing and needs to be based on a solid business case. My husband has the same rights. My employers are pretty flexible, so I'm sure I won't have any trouble going to part time - or even working 5 days over 4 - which isn't impossible on my short contractual working week. (Although as a professional I usually work quite a bit more than my mandated 35 hours a week - but if you're an American reader - I'd bet good money I don't work as much as you do.) I will be urging the Vol-in-Law to do the 5 days over 4 thing though since he's an academic- this would mean he'd be guaranteed to have a lecture free/ meeting free day and that would be one less day we'd have to pay exhorbitant London day care costs.

Demographic decline

The UK has one of the less generous maternity laws in Europe. Places with declining population (or fear of a declining white population - like France) tend to have better maternity coverage. It's not a chicken and egg thing - policy makers are trying to convince women like me (reasonably well paid, well-educated) to breed by paying us off. The policy doesn't actually work. A big deterrent for us breeding was making sure that we could keep our house after the maternity leave was over and we had to pay for child care. Child care in the US - my sense is - is more accessible and cheaper than it is in the UK. We also had to clear the regressive taxation in the lower reaches of tax scale. For the aspirant middle classes, breeding young is very expensive indeed.

The US is one of the few advanced countries that are still breeding at at least replacement rate. And I suspect that there will be little pressure on policy makers to improve maternity pay and leave until there is. This despite the struggle emotional and financial of young mothers who have to go back to work all too soon.

Dinner party wisdom

From another Expat blog:

Anyway, Paul wondered aloud why, in this country, so many people don’t seem to realise that you can be in favour of something without subsidising it, and that you can be against something without making a law against it. This doesn’t just apply to the UK, it’s a rampant blind spot for most of Europe and, from what I can see, has taken firm root in the minds of many Americans, too. What’s up with that?

I'd say this was a particular feature of New Labour - or perhaps democratic socialism as it's currently expressed in much of Europe (though I'm guessing - as I don't follow European domestic politics). My lefty colleagues see no difference between civic life and the life of the stae. That is worthy causes ought to be supported by the State - i.e. you and me through the public pound. I don't agree. Problem is - one person's idea of worthy may not be another's. I also believe that one should subsidise worthy causes - and that is why we have charities and that is why we should give to them.

Some things should be supported by the state - where this is both the most efficient and equitable use of resources. There will be always be a dispute in any society about which of those things should be produced by the state.

And as far as outlawing goes...I think this is another New Labour tendency, but not New Labour alone. Yes, I think racism is bad. Very bad. But do I think we should outlaw people saying racists things. No, I certainly do not. (New Labour does and has) I realise that some people in this country think that racism is a kind of greatest evil (I don't) and thus we should outlaw, outlaw, outlaw. I also realise that some people in the US think that abortion is the greatest evil (I do not) and thus we should outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.

Hey at least it wasn't Tennessee

Top Gear is a British auto show. Un-PC, irreverent and with a host - Jeremy Clarkson - who at best might be described as curmudgeonly anti-America. It's probably the top auto show on British tv. And it's kinda funny.

Recently the Top Gear lads went to Alabama. Just for the heck of it, they painted slogans like "Country and Western is Rubbish" and "I'm Bi" on each other's cars and then drove around to see what would happen.

They don't get the warmest of welcomes at one small town gas station. (You know things are bad when a town's own resident calls his home a "hick town" - and when the gas station owner says "I'm callin' the boys!") Cripes.

Jeremy Clarkson finishes the piece with "I'm doing something I thought I'd never do; make a run for the border."

He didn't say which way he was headed. Perhaps he was about enter the Greenest State in the Land of the Free.

Watch the hijinks ensue (via YouTube)...

Hat tip to fellow Southerner and American expat Kathy at What Do I know?

It was all probably just a cultural misunderstanding. Sweet Home Alabama is actually one of the most welcoming states. (Don't let those bullet holes in the "Welcome to Alabama!" sign fool you. Most people keep their guns on safety there.)

Truthfully though, you don't tug on superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, and you don't mess around with cultural iconography... Jeremy might think it's cool to poke fun, but I'd like to see him do something similar in the nastier neighbourhoods of Glasgow wearing the wrong color football strip, or why doesn't he go to certain neighbourhoods of Birmingham still reeling from recent terror arrests with a car painted up with "The Prophet was a pedophile".