Author: Lee Hausman

My kitchen incudes a number of typical British appliances, all small enough to fit below the counter. These include the refrigerator/freezer, dishwasher, oven/microwave, and combo clothes washer/dryer. The microwave is a combination microwave, broiler, convection oven but not really an oven in the baking sense. One sort of roasts a frozen pizza in the convection oven rather than baking or heating it (works OK, though the browning is not all you’d like).

 

The washer/dryer is small (11 lbs. max load wash, 5.5 lbs dry – a pair of my jeans can weigh 3 lbs) and illustrates the European commitment to conserving energy. It allows you to select a variety of water temperatures (in actual degrees, not just Hot or Cold) and even the spin cycle speeds, in RPM. It also uses a lot less water and takes a lot longer to do its job. For example, a recent washing then drying of two pairs of Levis and a few tee shirts took 5 hours to complete. The soap for this and the dishwasher comes in little bricks reminiscent of a giant Pez candy.

 

What we would call the "stove" in the US is called a Hob here and mine is the "ceramic cooktop" type (a smooth surface that heats in four circular areas, with no flame and no exposed heating elements). I don’t know if it’s because this is a rental property or if this is common, but there are circuit breakers along the wall in the kitchen, with red indicator lights, clearly labeled, for each of the appliances.

 

Perhaps the most important appliance in the place is the kettle. How many movies have you seen set in England where someone says "I’ll put the kettle on"? I always imagined them running into the kitchen to put the steel water kettle on the stove to warm it up. I chalked up the fact that the water was always ready so quickly to the application of "Hollywood time" to reality. Whenever I heat water on the stove it takes a long time (or forever, if I stand and watch).

 

But no, that’s not what they meant at all. The Kettle, in my kitchen and I’m given to believe generally here in England, is actually a nice stainless steel appliance the size and shape of a multi-quart water pitcher with a great big electric immersion heater in it. It heats a quart of water to full rolling boil in about 20 seconds (remember that the electricity here is 220V, which helps power the immersion heater efficiently) so water is ready for tea almost before you can get the tea pot and cups out. There are, of course, whole web sites devoted to the proper use and maintenance (regular de-scaling is very important) of your electric kettle.

 

What appliances that I’m used to are missing? Well, for one, there’s no disposal so I’m having to learn about not putting stuff down the drain with the abandon I’m gotten accustomed to in the last 15 years. I’m used to having a gas stove but the hob works just fine (it has the drawback of all ceramic cooktops in that it’s hard to tell if the surface is still hot after use). There’s also no toaster oven; I could buy one but I think I can get by with the toaster supplied with the apartment.

 

Overall, the kitchen is perfect for my small needs and easy to keep clean, too. Besides, with a "Chip Shop" (Fish and Chips) just across the street, where they hand you fresh cod or haddock cooked in a light batter and surrounded by the greasiest fries on the planet, doused with vinegar and wrapped in two layers of butcher paper, how often does one need to cook, anyway? Is that the sound of my cardiologist crying?

 

 

 

It occurred to me today, while walking back from the grocery store, that while I have seen people walking their dogs here, I have seen absolutely zero dog poop on the sidewalks. I’m not sure what accounts for this (maybe the British are more civilized) but it’s very nice. I’ve also seen very few bugs. Yeah, sure, the weather has something to with that and I have seen bug zappers in stores, but I have yet to see any critters without wings.

 

What I have seen a lot of is door stops. Door stops? Yes, those rubbery wedges intended to keep a door open are on sale everywhere. It seems that British fire regulations require most interior doors in homes and apartments built or upgraded since 1975 to be fitted with interior spring mechanisms that automatically close them. So the doors will swing shut on their own all the time. In addition, a door of this kind is required between major spaces and hallways (your living room and front hall, for example).  This turns your home into a dark warren of closed-off rooms and so, door stops have become essential household items.

 

 

My new apartment is very nice and I’m happy with it. It’s technically a serviced apartment which means that I get weekly maid and linen service. What’s not to like? This was intended as a mere way point between a hotel and a normal apartment but the deal proved so attractive that my company (which is footing the bill) just decided to leave me here for the duration. The apartments are actually named "Number 18" and you can see their web site here: http://www.number-18.co.uk

 

Now if my personal goods will just show up! They were shipped Monday from Northern Virginia via FedEx and, with my customary level of preparation, all of the appropriate UK Customs forms were duly filled out and provided. So I was a bit puzzled when the FedEx van pulled up yesterday and delivered just 2 of 12 boxes.

 

After some calls and online sleuthing, it appears that the 10 other boxes are hung up in Her Majesty’s Customs at the Stanstead airport north of London. Why the two boxes that were delivered yesterday passed right on through, no one knows, but apparently it’s not unusual. I’ve left my new mobile phone number with FedEx and hope to hear something from them soon. I can just imagine the FedEx airport staff using my golf clubs right now to whack balls around their hangar!

 

It’s fun to look at the FedEx Tracking web site and see where my stuff went: McLean to Dulles to Indianapolis to Stanstead. Never would have guessed it would go via Indiana in a million years.

 

The new digs are about 5 minutes on foot from our office, a very nice commute indeed. I’ve inserted a little map of Reading so that you can see the general layout. From my place to the train station is about a 15-minute walk, so we’re not talking about a huge area. London is a 25-minute train ride away (under optimum conditions). In case the map resolution isn’t good enough for you, the yellow spot is my apartment and the green one is the office. The Oracle Mall is a large modern retail mall that straddles with Kennett River.

  

As soon as I moved in at the beginning of the week and had an official address, one of the first things I did was go to the Reading Central Library to get a library card. I thought this might be a bit dicey as I had no ID with my address on it and no utility bills (which are commonly used to establish residence in order to get a library card).

 

As I feared, without the requisite ID, I was not allowed to become a Full Member, but I could be come a Junior Member which simply means I’m limited to checking out two books and two DVDs at a time. Fine with me. Ahh, libraries; what great institutions! There is just something so universal about the culture of the book. It has been great to be able to settle down this week with a good mystery book in the evenings.

 

Some of you have asked about the earthquake here the other night. It was a 5.2 strength quake centered due north of London, about halfway to Scotland, at 1:00 am our time but there was little effect here in Reading. I did wake up but it was one of those non-events where you wake up but you don’t know why. So I went right back to sleep. Some other folks here reported much the same: a creaking in their ceiling, a rattle in the yard. No one I’ve talked to here has mentioned the salt and pepper shakers dancing off the table or anything like that. It did cause some damage elsewhere in England (collapsing chimneys and such) and I think a child was killed. It was the strongest quake here in 25-30 years.

 

Next: Mystery Appliances

My new business title is a work-in-progress at the moment as we try to figure out the cultural nuances. I read a funny story about a fella who was a new and low-level functionary in a large, well-known US company that did business in Japan. He was having trouble figuring out what his title was but had to go on a business trip to Japan, so he had his new business cards printed without a title on them. When he got to Japan and started handing his cards out, he suddenly found himself being treated like an emperor. Turns out, with their typical less-is-more outlook, having no title on your card in Japan means you are sooo important, so high up, that everyone in your company knows who you are and what your title is. He got the red carpet treatment due to this misunderstanding. Hmm… think maybe I should leave my new cards without a title? Sadly, I don’t think the Brits operate in the same way as the Japanese.

 

I’ve noticed that few business, or even the malls, here in Reading have the "airlock"-style vestibule you find in the U.S. to prevent heat loss as people pass through exterior doors. Instead, in cold weather, they just keep their stores at about 85-degrees to offset the rush of cold air that comes in with every customer. Very oddly fuel-inefficient in a country that is generally otherwise.

 

This door observation came to me as I was sitting having a panini for lunch at a little shop. I’ve also noticed that most commercial doors swing in, not out as in the States. In the U.S. this doors-open-out thing is a part of the national fire code, designed to ensure that people can exit quickly. This part of the fire code came about due to the Great Iroquois Theatre Fire of 1903 in Chicago, during which stampeding people trying to flee the burning theatre jammed up against the inside of the exit doors, preventing them from being opened inward. Where do I get these arcane bits of information? I learned this from LaVahn Hoh in his technical theater class at the UVA Drama School – his annual lecture on this fire was a widely attended and highly-anticipated event.

 

 

 

What you see at the left is the Upin Arms pub. As another blogger here in Reading pointed out, English pubs have some great names: Back of the Beyond, Hobgoblin, The Monk’s Retreat, The Nobody Inn, and my current favorite: The Cuckoo Bush (from the 13th Century so definitely no reference to current politics).

 

Pub life is an amazing phenomenon here is the UK and there are countless web sites that review pubs and beers. It’s not analogous to the "neighborhood bar" in the U.S. exactly; there’s a large cultural thing going on here. I’ll have to do more research before filing a comprehensive report; yes, yes, it’s a tough job but someone’s got to do it! 

 

  

I attended the King Tut exhibit at The O2 in London recently. The O2 is that funny-looking domed structure with all the rods coming out its roof that you may have seen in movies. It turns out to be a huge tent – the dome is material like heavy canvas and the inside is a rigging miracle. Underneath this vast tent there are real brick-and-mortar restaurants and other buildings. The King Tut exhibit was in one of them; my timed-entry ticket allowed me to get in a long queue 30 minutes ahead of time and trickle forward (which I thought timed-entry tickets were supposed to help alleviate). The exhibit itself was a bit short on actual King Tut artifacts, instead containing a lot of things from the tombs of his relatives and peers. But hey, anytime you get to see a gilt coffin up close, you can’t complain, even if it belonged to King Tut’s mother-in-law. It’s always a thrill to be able to put your nose a few inches away from something that was crafted by hand 3,500 years ago!

 

Did I mention that there are four casino’s on the same street as my hotel? Not your Vegas-scale operations, but with all the gambling your wallet can stand nonetheless. They’re not real flashy on the outside either, no neon (sorry Robert), but they’re clearly casino’s. I didn’t go inside but a glimpse through the door revealed they have digital slot machines and poker. These are in addition to the several plain, old betting parlors in Reading, too, which are much more like the OTB in New York and are mostly sports- and racing-oriented.

 

Next: Moving into my apartment

 

 

I‘ve taken up residence for a week in a hotel in Reading and have had success in arranging an apartment for myself, available next week. The next task will be to find an office space, which I hope to do this morning.

 

My hotel is in the "city centre" or downtown area, which is relatively small and includes sections where the streets are closed off for pedestrian use only. With the exception of a few churches and the odd castle tower, the city center is relatively modern and the Lords of Burger King, Subway, and McDonalds are well-represented. Nearby is the mall I mentioned in my last post, "The Oracle", which is the size of Tysons Corners and sits on both sides of the Kennett River, which flows neatly past nicely-designed sidewalks and outdoor cafe seating.

 

I encounter the charmingly odd aspects of British life every day. For example, when your National Rail Service (not subway) train comes to a stop, in order to exit, you must lower the door window, reach outside, and  use the outside door handle to open the door. Just like you see them doing in 1940s movies! There is no inside handle and I’ve only seen one or maybe two platform attendants available to help people disembark, so you’re very much expected to handle (pardon the pun) this on your own.

 

I almost had my first brush with the National Health Service as a result of this train door business: when I arrived in Reading with my luggage last Sunday, I disembarked and, as no one else followed, closed the door behind me. Noticing the up-down sliding window was still down, I grasped its top edge and pulled up to close it. It turned out to be counter-weighted and flew up on its own, smashing three of my fingers. I saw stars, I can tell you! No bones turned out to be broken and some cold water soaking helped keep most of the swelling down, but even today I’m sporting a lovely black and blue look on those digits.

 

Here are some Life-in-the-UK tidbits from my daily observations:

 

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Sometimes dreams do come true and then, well, you just better watch out!

 

I have been posted to England by my employer, to establish a subsidiary company in the UK and open an international office. After several changes of mind, we have settled on Reading (pronounced "Redding") as the location for our office and my new home. Forget the PBS Masterpiece Theatre image of Reading as a quaint little one-street town with a pub just down from the vicar’s house. Reading is a town of 50,000 about 40 miles west of London in the Thames River Valley and has both a vehicle-free city center with winding old streets and one of the largest malls in England. We chose Reading because its real estate is cheaper than London’s by a factor of 10 and it’s home to many UK IT firms, including Oracle and Microsoft (who has 5,500 employess here).

 

I’ve spend my first week getting to know Reading and inspecting "serviced offices" and "serviced apartments". These are fully-equipped places that give you everything you need to get going quickly. We’re zero-ing on both office and apartment and I hope we will be able to close the deal on both early this coming week. A local business development group has been helping show me around and make introductions, which has been invaluable.

 

Once I get out of the hotel and into my serviced apartment (where I expect to stay for 3-6 months) I’ll have my meager household goods shipped over. These consist of 10 boxes of clothes and computers, my golf clubs, and a guitar; all I really need for a year.

 

I want to thank my many friends who were so generous with their good wishes and assistance leading up to my departure from the U.S. I suppose it has still not quite sunk in yet for me that I’m not just on another vacation trip. So far, I’m quite happy to be here and all has gone smoothly. I have been able to stay in close contact with HQ in McLean due to the excellent quality of my Internet connection at the hotel.

 

Next in the queue (see those British-isms are creeping in already): figuring out how to buy or lease a car!