England really is a charming place. I’ve enjoyed being here. So many things are different from Canada, yet we have so much in common. I can’t imagine what people must go through when they leave one culture and move to a completely different one altogether. I’ve often thought it would be nice to live here, especially at this stage of my Dad’s life. It’s not practical right now, with our families and the church, but it would have been nice. There are a lot of things I find strange here: the scary TV commercials warning you that the cops will bust down your doors if you don’t have a TV license; the price of petrol (over twice what we pay for gas at home); the newspapers (how many newspapers does an island really need?); the Quantum meters for gas (insert card to pay for gas – what is that about?). Lots of little things like that. Lots of surprises, too: how good and prevalent Indian food is here; how the top meal here is supposedly frozen microwave lasagna (fish and chips is at number 14); how expensive the houses are; how expensive everything is. The British really have it together in a lot of ways. I like standing at a bus stop in some remote village and having a digital read-out of when the next three buses will arrive and where they will be going. Accurate too. They know how to make candy bars that taste like real chocolate has been involved somewhere in the process. I love the feel of the place. I like being close to the coast and I love High Street (the main street in every village). Whereas my sister finds it old, dingy, and damp, I find it charming. I’m always a little sad to leave.