The nanosecond I set foot in the British Isles yesterday, I suddenly became English again.  See, my grandparents were proud of their English/Scottish heritage and I feel a kinship to my relatives when I’m over here.  In fact, my last name used to be Mackay … from the Clan Mackay, a rather motley crew of roughnecks over here.  Over the years, we’ve settled down.  Probably by changing our name to the oh-so mundane M-A-C-K-I-E.

After landing in London yesterday morning, I started using words like “Cheerio” and  “Bloody good” for no apparent reason.  I took the “lift” instead of using the elevator on my way to the loo, er, the shitter.  British people are ridiculously friendly.  Every stereotype about them rings true, including bad teeth.  (“Bugger off!” said my cousin Angela when she saw me type that.  See, it sounds so much more polite than ‘Eff you” or “Eff off”.)

Over the years, I’ve started to crave certain English things that we don’t have in America.  I have a list of “must-haves” while I’m across the pond.  Take piccalilli for instance.  It’s a weird English condiment … similar to mustard, but spicier.  It has bits of cauliflower, onion and other assorted vegetables mashed up in it.  And to top it off, it’s pickled.  So not only is it spicy, it’s got some zing to it.  I smear it on everything.  My relatives are appalled.

Come to think of it, a majority of my English obsessions are food-related.  I have to have biscuits with my tea.  (Uh, I don’t even drink tea in America.)  And I eat crisps by the bagful.  We know them as potato chips in the States.  My relatives call them “pickies”, munchy things that you pick at.  They usually stock up on pickies when I’m around.

There’s a local bakery on every street corner called Greggs.  They serve all sorts of delicious muffins, cookies and these delightful things called pasties.  It’s liked a baked croissant.  Pasties have any number of fillings from cream cheese to minced meat to sausage and potatoes.  I could eat a baker’s dozen every day.  (Tasty, yes.  Healthy, no.)  On my last trip here, we were traipsing from village to village sightseeing.  I had four pasties throughout the day.  Again my relatives were aghast. 

My relatives are very good to me.  Today, between having crumpets with jam and shepherd’s pie, they took me shopping to buy some bigger jeans.  Last time, I “outgrew” all my clothes while I was here. 

God, I love being on holiday … er, vacation.