Introducing Elaine

Let me introduce Elaine, an ex-pat Brit living in Washington DC America, a married mum to her nearly 3 year old son. She will start writing a weekly post for Style Me Sunday. As you'll see she's great with words and has a passion for interior design and cooking so will hopefully add a much needed new dimension to Style Me Sunday. 

Here's her introduction post, hope you like it, and if you do please show some love with your comments, likes, shares etc.

Elaine's next post will be about interior design and how they did their amazing kitchen.

Thanks 

What do you think when you hear or see the words "Washington, DC"? Do you think Barack Obama? Capital of the USA? Land of the Free? Before I moved here 12 years ago, I never paid any heed to any place in the US. Sure, I watched the news but to be honest, I'd grown up with media telling me that Americans were loud, brash, uncultured and wore fanny packs with white trainers. Therefore, why would I want to visit, let alone live here? Long story short - a romance with an American that lasted about as long as my jetlag when I arrived. In sum, I stayed after the fallout and am still here almost 13 years later.

In my first few years of being here, all the stereotypes mentioned above, completely fell away. I made some lifelong friends who I've trusted with my sanity and I know they're keepers forever more. What also fell away were my preconceived notions that Britain and the US are similar culturally. I grew up watching Dallas and Dynasty. I knew America. How wrong I was. Winnie Churchill wasn't far off when he said that Britain and the US were "two nations divided by a common language". Even after all these years here, I still have to "translate" a fair bit. 

There's the pronunciation thing: Water becomes wahdder; butter becomes bahddah. There are spelling changes: Aluminium is aluminum; paediatrician becomes pediatrician... Then there are some words that aren't used at all over here: Trousers, trolley, football, knickers, trainers, tap, dustbin, rubbish... The lists are endless... and on a day when I'm overly tired or in a real rush, it gets more than frustrating. The more het up I get, the stronger my British accent gets...and well it's all a bit of vicious circle really.

My European friends love to party (within reason, most of the time), eat rich and sometimes downright unhealthy foods, love a glass or three of booze and generally don't take themselves seriously at all. They also do the self-deprecation thing brilliantly. My American friends love convenience - the quicker the better, living healthily, yoga, running and loving oneself in a pleasantly spiritual way. It's not that the euro pals are reckless or that the americans are puritanical and can't have fun, it's just very different. I tell myself I get to be in the best of both worlds. 

Hand on heart though, I'll never fully be "at home" in the USA. I miss Britain. Sometimes I miss it so deeply that I can't stand it. The small things - a newsagent that sells milk, cigarettes, sweets and newspapers on every corner. I miss British humour and have to sate myself with watching Graham Norton repeats. Self-deprecation and taking the piss out of someone *even though it's someone one cares for* is not welcomed over here. I stopped self-deprecating when a few girls tried to do an intervention on my "self hatred". Oh, dear god. I also miss the telly adverts (they're more edgy and clever than the US ones), the news (Trevor McDonald in particular for some very odd reason), hearing the Scots, English, Welsh and Irish accents. I even miss Waitrose for god's sake. I cannot find decent butter or caster sugar here for love nor money. When I'm around other Brits, all my repressed Brit humour, self deprecation and piss-taking literally explode out of hiding. When I'm in Waitrose, I go utterly bonkers. Duck fat? Yes please. Heston Blumental ready-made suppers for one? Hell yes. I am like a child in the world's most amazing sweet shop. Oh, it's "candy store" here. I am almost weeping writing that. 

Last time I was home (Great Malvern, Worcestershire), I visited three sweet shops. Just because I could. I am struggling to recall a time when I was happier than walking out with that little white paper bag full of toffee bonbons. Three little bags actually. Three different shops. In one day. 

Most of all, I miss being able to pop over to see my sister and her family; to have supper at my parents' house; to spend weekends with my brother and his family, generally being dickheads together and crying with laughter. We did that whole selfie with sellotape thing YEARS ago!

My son was born in DC. He turns 3 in a few weeks, and is now talking - Spanish with his father and English with me. He has an american accent because of school. I endlessly repeat WARTAAAH as I cannot bear to hear him say wahdderrr. I know, call me shallow. I drill shopping TROLLEY, rubbish BIN and TROUSERS, pants are your underwear! into him all the time. I change the words of the nursery rhymes back to the PROPER version... It's the wheels on the bus go round and round ALL DAY LONG, not all through the town. Heresy! As my husband says (rather smugly I might add) "I will never have to hear him say words differently to me as he only speaks Spanish with me". Git. My child will end up with an accent like Lloyd Grossman. Fack. 

Why do I care that my son, born and being raised in the US has an american accent, you might ask, aghast at my idiocy? Well, being selfish and honest - I want my son to have and experience some of who I am. I am a proud Brit with a maroon passport cover that has a crown on it. I will never give it up. My son has a blue passport cover with an eagle on it. Mine is nicer-looking. British immigration officers at Heathrow and Gatwick are charming and pleasant and I pass through quickly. The US ones are mean and make people cry. Okay, yes I am joking about the passports (not about the US immig officers though, they really are bastards). In seriousness though, Britain is where I was born and grew up and at the end of the day, it is who I am. It's my identity. I am genuinely saddened when I think of my son having no foot in that part of my heritage. Without it, will he ever really understand me and why I think the way I do as an expat, or will he grow up thinking his mum says things weirdly?  

I enjoy living here. If I didn't, I'd leave. Here are some of the pros: The weather is a million times better. A MILLION. I can actually sunbathe in the garden for several months of the year. It doesn't rain that often. Snows even less. The customer service is pretty damn good. I can return an item of clothing to a shop and not have to have a speech prepared as to WHY I want to take it back. Here, they just take it from you, no questions asked. In M&S, it's a shame-inducing interrogation, even if you have the receipt in hand and tags still on the garment. (The last time I did a return was over 15 years ago, but clearly I am still traumatised. M&S, Worcester High Street, 1998. Oh the horror.) If you have a large appetite, you've hit the bonanza - all portions are humungous. And in comparison to Europe, dirt cheap. You can buy the latest Gwyneth Paltrow health foods all under one roof - Wholefoods. I know it's in London now, but still, does it carry Vegenaise??!!! I am sure this is the only country one can buy Vegan Sugar. I have to admit, never before did I realise sugar contained dairy or meat. *Seriously, people???*. 

All this has made me terribly nostalgic and a little bit homesick. I'm off to eat some Walkers crisps (prawn cocktail flavour, heaven) and chocolate digestive biscuits ($20 for a pack of SIX but I didn't care) whilst drinking a large mug of tea in front of BBC America.   

Elaine x