TELGEN NEWSLETTER 6

TELGEN NEWSLETTER 6.0: July 17, 2001

Dear Family and Friends:

Boy, have I been a naughty girl, neglecting you like this. It's been over a year since I brought you up to date on life in England, but maybe that's because everyday life in England now feels just like regular life to us, making it harder to draw interesting comparisons for you. Plus, the less paid work I do, the more volunteer work I seem to accumulate, leaving me little time to compose these lovely letters to my stateside friends. Luckily for you, it's summertime—ie, playtime for mom! Not only that, the British government has made the past year very interesting, culminating in a general election. But more on that later; first, let's catch up with the family....

Oh, to be a junkyard dog: Over a year ago David left what I call the "Age of Thomas" and entered the more manly "Age of Lego" stage of life. This means that nothing is more interesting than home-made construction, all the better if the end product is destined for destruction. So our young man's favorite TV shows are "Robot Wars," in which teams of home-made robots try to destroy each other by hook, crook, or flipper; and "Scrapheap Challenge" (aka "Junkyard Wars"), in which two teams must construct something (a flying machine, a submarine, a drag racer) out of materials found in a junkyard, then compete to see which design performs best. When "Scrapheap" comes on, all activity stops in our house, as even the theme music inspires wild, joyous dancing. Life would be perfect, David thinks, if only they would come up with more interesting challenges, such as "construct a bomb to explode an entire building" or "create a tank to squish a car flat."

From the man himself, as told to Mom: "I really like summer school. I like to play my Gameboy, and play with my Legos. (I don't know how many I have.) I also like to watch TV and go to the movies. I like the movies at the cinema. I like to read a bit. My favorite books are all kinds, especially 'Horrible Histories.' I like playing ping-pong."

Hail to the chief!: Yes, it's true. Yours truly is this year's president of the North American Women's Club of Northwood. It was a long and hard campaign, but ... they finally convinced me to do it, since no one else would. All my time at finishing school, the challenges of my debutante season, my enthusiastic sorority years, have finally paid off. (Note to any casual browser reading this: NOT!!!) Actually, the NAWC isn't really what I associate with the term "women's club," as it's more for making friends, having lots of fun, and easing the transition to life in England. We raise money for charity as well. (The group shopping trips for china play a teeny part, too....) So between my position as Jill-of-all-trades and volunteering at school, I should have enough to keep me occupied for the next year. (Or, if we're being accurate, more than enough.)

Let he who is without spin...: Well, Britain has been in the news a few times over the past year due to interesting "crises" of various kinds. First, last fall we endured the "petrol crisis." This started out as a relatively straightforward tax protest (British fuel taxes/prices are some of the highest, if not the highest, in Europe), in which long-haul lorry drivers were blockading fuel depots in a few spots around the country. They wanted the government to reduce fuel duty, or at least promise not to increase it (VAT, or value-added tax, is added on top of that tax). The government refused to talk to them, claiming a blockade wasn't a proper way to initiate a discussion—but the main reason was that dealing with the problem would mean that you're acknowledging that there's a problem, and that might mean taking responsibility for the problem, and why should we do that, we didn't create the problem! So, while the government was ignoring the protest, the blockade continued. By the weekend, the media was in a frenzy, panic buying had set in, queues were blocking traffic everywhere, and stations were running dry; our school cancelled some events because parents and buses needed to save fuel. By the middle of the next week, when people were openly speculating about emergency services and food supplies being cut off, the government finally stepped in and used the army to end the blockade. It took almost three weeks for the supplies to get back to normal. Luckily for me, I only use about one tank of petrol a month. Bill, on the other hand, worked from home a couple of days during this time in order to conserve fuel.

Then, of course, this spring the government dragged its collective feet again, this time while foot-and-mouth disease spread among England's livestock (and beyond). They could have implemented their plan to halt the spread of the disease when the first cases arose, but—well, they would have had to have had a plan in the first place. So again, for the first few days there were reassurances that there wasn't a crisis, and no action (outside of quarantine) was taken. In the meantime, the disease spread from two isolated areas to all over the country. Eventually the government came up with a plan, and brought in the army to help with the mass cull of animals in affected areas, but not before the countryside had effectively been shut down, bringing many farms and tourist facilities to the brink of ruin. Things seem to be better now—footpaths have been reopened, people are travelling back to the countryside—but there are still a dozen or so new cases a week, and over 3.5 million animals have either been slaughtered or are scheduled for slaughter (those not actually infected are being "culled" as a preventive measure). Things looked really dire for a while, but with the way the media here blows everything out of proportion, it always looks dire, even when it's not. (Now it's old news, so it's not in the media even though the outbreak still isn't over.) Nevertheless, the government postponed the election for a month because of the crisis, because they wouldn't want to look as if they weren't paying foot-and-mouth proper attention.

...cast the first vote (or trade it): So, despite the postponement caused by foot-and-mouth, we finally got to observe how national elections work over here. After the debacle that was the 2000 U.S election, I have to say it was an interesting and sometimes refreshing contrast. First of all, a five-week election season! The government calls for an election, and it happens in about a month. So no constant political nattering about something that won't take place for eighteen months. Second, hardly any political ads!! They get equal TV time for party broadcasts, but these are scheduled so you can avoid them if you want. No watching TV and having it interrupted by nasty, slanted, mean-spirited political ads. There was plenty of coverage in the news media, oftentimes with a particular slant, but for the most part it was informative. Third, there is a viable national third party, the Liberal Democrats, as well as viable local parties (Green, Scottish & Welsh national parties, even one who ran—and won—on a "Save Kidderminster Hospital" platform) so you really had a decent choice. The most notable difference, however, is that in Britain you don't vote directly for prime minister, you vote for your member of parliament (MP), and then the leader of the party (or coalition of parties) with the most MPs becomes prime minister. So you can't "split" your vote like you do in the States, by voting for a senator of one party and a president of another. This led to an interesting phenomenon, fueled by the internet: "vote trading." Suppose you were a Liberal Democrat (left) who lived in an area where the Lib Dems ran a distant third to Labour (central left) and the Tories (right). If you couldn't have your candidate, you'd still rather have a Labour MP than a Conservative one, right? So, via the internet, you could find a Labour supporter who was in a similar situation: Labour running third to the Lib Dems and Tories. The two of you agree to "swap" your votes, and hopefully the Tories lose in both areas. A strange idea, too bad it didn't catch on with the Greens in Florida last year....

So, what about the election itself? Well, it was a Labour landslide, to the surprise of absolutely no one. The Conservative, aka Tory, Party, is a complete mess over here. Their main issue seemed to be keeping England out of the Euro (the new monetary currency of the EU), something very low on most Britons' lists of important issues. Other than that, they didn't really propose anything new or different, and during all these crises seemed only to say "we would have done it better" without actually suggesting how they would do so. (The Tories have the problem that the Republicans had during the Clinton years: the "left" co-opting all their issues.) To top it off, the Tory candidate for Prime Minister, William Hague, is one of the most uncharismatic people I've ever seen/heard, poor chap. With the British economy in fairly good shape, there was absolutely no reason to oust Tony Blair's government, and to add insult to injury, the Lib Dems picked up seats at the expense of the Tories. What has actually been more interesting than the general election is the subsequent struggle for leadership of the Tory party, since Hague resigned following his resounding defeat. The infighting and arcane voting procedures have held more interest and suspense.

After the news, the weather: The forecast for today: cloudy, with periods of sun and thunderstorms. Honestly, that's what the forecasts are like here. And that pretty much describes the weather: on the same day it can be sunny, cloudy, rainy—sometimes all at the same time, and several times on the same day! Last week, for instance, I had my umbrella up to keep the raindrops off, but the sun was shining on my arm at the same time. So, forecasts are absolutely useless, and the only thing that would be helpful—a channel that shows the current radar, like the Weather Channel does—doesn't exist. So we muddle along, carrying an umbrella as a kind of amulet to keep away the rain. (It has worked so far this past week: no umbrella one day = rain on me; carry umbrella four days = no rain on me.)

That's all for this edition. I should have time in the next months to update the vacation reports with our trips to Holland, Copenhagen, and the Baltic. But don't feel you have to wait for latest—get in touch anytime!

Diane, Bill & David Telgen