Braindump from Leeds

I wrote this on the train coming up here yesterday, and I've no idea what it says. I'm throwing it up anyway because it's already written and I'm exhausted. Writing about Leeds tomorrow:

I'm typing this on the fast train to Leeds. The trains have "power points" - which those of us from the US would call "outlets" - which means that battery life is no bar to either Ferrett or I babbling away incessantly as we travel through the English countryside.

Aren't you all lucky?

One of the things I did notice about London was how brown everything was. The country has been experiencing a drought, and water levels are so low that a "hose ban" is on. Even the queen is refraining from watering her lawn, so the great expanse of grounds that comprise the backyard of Buck House is parched. Grass is a lovely and sturdy ground cover when you can slake its thirst, but inclined toward giving up the ghost in the absence of regular moisture.

Riding along through the countryside, one of the things I note is the number of butterfly bushes. We planted a couple in our yard three years ago, and I recently read that they are invasive. Apparently, this is very true. Great large ones line the track here and there. I don't know if they are native to England, but they certainly are thriving.

Of course, the older parts of England look radically different than anything we have in the US, but I'm noting that even the newer parts of towns are different. For one thing, the houses continue to be built on much smaller footprints of land, and are not so ridiculously large as the "McMansions" blighting former farmland across America. It's hard to say for certain, but it appears that new development continues to take into account needs like public transportation. They have a lot less land mass here, of course, and that forces more insight upon people. But it irks me to watch the US bullheadedly continuing shortsighted development - even as people are howling that they can't afford to drive to work, we keep building subdivisions further and further from transportation and support services. The suggested solution is, "make the oil companies give us gas for a lower price," rather than "deal with the underlying problem." Frustrating.

And today we took in the Brighton Pride Parade. (They took the word "gay" out of it so that it would be friendly to everyone in the GBLT demographic.) It was a happy, fun and (dare I say it?) family-friendly event. That sounds so weird - the family-friendly flaming fags. But truly it was. I only spotted one bare bum, there was very little suggestive dancing, no blatant making-out in the street. Whereas in the past, many pride parades have had a "we're not going to be invisible, dammit!" feel to them, this was very much, "whee, fun!" And that's great. Would like to see more casualness about such things throughout the rest of the world - wouldn't it be lovely if the GLBT Police and Fireman's Float was just part of the Macy's Parade, and no one made a big deal about it?

"We're not in Kansas" moment: we just passed by an old, two-story brick house in the middle of a field. Its roof was completely gone, and full-sized trees stood inside it, their branches at roof level. How long has some farmer been plowing around that?

The fields here look much like farm fields in the US, except still broke up by hedgerows. Scarletdemon said that the agribusiness folk want to remove them to make farming more efficient, "but they are so important to England's wildlife that there is a lot of resistance to that." Hey, they're important to US wildlife, too, Wish there was more recognition of that in our country. Everyone only worries about getting their bread for a few cents less. Grr.

Every once in a while trains pass us going the other way. They look close enough to touch, and they are just screaming by. It's a startling reminder of my mortality. I'm grateful for the efficiency of the British rail system, not letting them whack into each other.

Keep it up, guys.

Really tired, from staying up too late with Scarlet and Ferrett, winding each other up and taking the piss out of each other. It was great, but wow I'm tired. To the point where my thoughts are getting really scattered.

And I'm much more allergic to England than I thought I would be. This is irksome, but it makes tragic sense - alas, all the invasive crap that has taken over the native fauna of the US came from over here. I expect I will continue to be snuffling throughout the trip.

Clearly, it is time for more tea.

Brits really do drink it for everything. Scarlet told us about a car accident that happened just outside her house. Some drunk flew down the hill going the wrong way and wiped out another car. She said that by the time she'd called the police and gotten out there, both victims were already holding fortifying mugs of tea, brought to them by other witnesses who realized that what was most needed was a nice cuppa.

And I do mean mug. Tea may be found in delicate china, poured from a silver service, but not on a day-to-day basis. Scarlet's "tea pot" looks like a glass coffee carafe, her cups are a jumble of novelty mugs acquired over years of holiday gift-giving. When we've gotten tea in pubs and restaurants, it has arrived in sturdy ceramic, not fragile porceline. It's a real drink, neither fancy nor pretentious.

I want to live in a row house and not own a car and ride the tube and drink pots of P.G. Tipps.

And winter somewhere else. Because, dude, all that cold and wind would totally harsh my buzz.