Home for a few days...

MikeO

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Dereham, Norfolk, today...
A Week in the UK – 5th-13th October

A manic week. After an 0530 check in at Newark, I pass through the security checks and, the staff having satisfied themselves that I’d be able to do nothing more subversive than threaten the flight crew with a plastic comb, I’m allowed into the departure lounge for the 2½ hr wait to board. There’s a wireless internet connection in the lounge – hurrah! – I’ve left my wireless internet card in my hold baggage – damn!

I’m soon boarding the Virgin Atlantic Airbus – I’m indebted to Mike Belch, from UKGSer, for once again coming up trumps and upgrading my Economy ticket to Premium Economy. When you’ve had as many Chicken Fried Steaks as I have over the last 8 months, the extra wide seat helps…:D

The flight over is uneventful – I manage to watch 2 movies on the excellent entertainment system, which allows you to not only choose the start time of any of 50+ films, but also lets you pause, rewind or fast-forward them.

I arrive in a wet and cold London Heathrow at about 2100 local, find my way to the hire car office and, after a minor heart attack when I though I’d left part of my Driving Licence back in the USA, throw my overnight bag into the Vauxhall Vectra I’m given and start the drive to Bristol – some 100 miles west…

I’m driving a car (rather than riding a bike) – the first with a manual gearbox for over 8 months – on the wrong side of the road at night in the rain – and without Bettie to guide me. It doesn’t feel much like home…:D

By midnight I’ve arrived at Simon & Claire’s house in Oakhill, south of Bristol. This has been a re-introduction into the difference between the USA and the UK – Brits think 100 miles is a long way, Americans think 100 years is a long time. 100 miles is a long way in the UK, for some reason – it takes me much longer than the same distance would in the USA. :confused:

Simon & I joined the police together about a thousand years ago. I left after 10 years and he stayed on. Tragically, whilst training on an Advanced Refresher Motorcycle Course some 5 years ago, a truck pulled across the road in front of him. Simon didn’t stand a chance and is now confined to a wheelchair. Claire, who is an ex policewoman, is one of the hardest working and resilient people I’ve ever met - they are a great couple whose attitude to life and good humour never fails to inspire me.

Even though it’s only 2000 New York time, I’m tired enough to sleep soundly through the night and I’m up at just after 0900 the next day. I try on my suit (my first interview is tomorrow afternoon) and then say goodbye (temporarily) to Simon & Claire as I head for Bristol to go and buy another – it’s clearly shrunk whilst in storage…:yelrotflm

After getting a new suit, shirts etc, I make my way over to Paul & Mandy’s house in Norfolk, near where my (currently leased out) house is. I arrive there just after 1800 and, during the course of the evening, agree to buy Paul’s Citroen Xantia – it’ll be a handy vehicle to commute in when I return in a month or so. The following day, I arrange to view a flat (apartment) near where my job will be based – I’ll need to rent for the first 6 months or so, as my house has a tenant until April next year.

The ‘Screening Test’ that afternoon goes well – I now know I can accurately type at 30 words per minute. I feel that 31 might be beyond me – I was working very hard…:D

I’m invited back for an interview on Tuesday afternoon.

That evening I’m invited to the pub to celebrate Paul’s Dad’s 50th birthday – there are about 12-14 of us there and it’s a great night – I treat myself to Steak & Kidney pie – a delicacy the colonies have singularly failed to embrace…

The next morning, I leave the misty fields of Norfolk, where a million pumpkins patiently await their lobotomies…

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…then meet up near Peterborough where Marion (UKGSer Matron), makes me an offer I can’t refuse (she offers to buy me lunch :D).

I stop off in Peterborough and buy a new mobile phone, with a Bluetooth headset, as the authorities in the UK frown upon the use of a mobile whilst driving unless it is hands-free.

I then head into Bedfordshire, past the gigantic airship hangars at Cardington…

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…where the R100 and R101 were built. These structures are simply enormous – they are often used as giant sound stages for films and adverts these days. The Driving Standards Agency (DSA), which tests and licences all drivers, riders, instructors and examiners in the UK, now have their offices in their shadow.

As evening falls across the freshly ploughed fields…

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…I arrive at the village of Shillington, home of my friends Jerry and Louise. Jerry and I served in HMS Ark Royal together for a couple of years, when I was on an exchange tour. It’s their daughter Millie’s 4th birthday today and the lounge is a flurry of torn wrapping paper – Millie has a party for 8 of her friends tomorrow afternoon (when Jerry advises me to be a long way from here :p) – so she needs to try out her outfit…

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After dinner, Jerry & I draw up a capstan, swing the lamp and start spinning yarns. The lovely Louise, who is preparing a cake for Millie’s party, very sensibly banishes us to the village pub, where stories are told, worlds put to rights and the distracting effects of suede miniskirts amply demonstrated by one of the local blondes (no pics, sorry). A good evening :thumb.

I have a slow start the next day. By a happy bit of synchronicity, I’ve got a reunion to go to tonight. 30 years ago, I joined the Police Cadets. Although I stayed in the police for 10 years afterwards, I’d lost touch with nearly everyone from that time until I was passed an email, via Simon, asking me to come to a reunion in Bristol on the 9th October. I’d sent my apologies but, as I was now unexpectedly returning for the interview, I suddenly found myself at a loose end in the UK that weekend. After dropping my stuff off at Simon & Claire’s again (your usual room, Mr Oughton? :D), I drive up to Bristol and meet up with 40 or so ghosts from my past.

Now, I’ve never been to a reunion before, and I have to say I’ve got mixed feelings about them. The room where it was held had people’s snapshots from the time pinned to boards on the walls and Mike and Monica, who’d arranged the whole thing (and I’m enormously impressed by the amount of work and organisation involved – well done!) had made up a video from cine film taken at the time. This was shown on a big screen during the evening. My main feeling was that time hadn’t been kind to a lot of the people (probably myself included) – although some people looked spookily unchanged (Monica clearly has a portrait in her attic that is growing old :p). If someone were to do a cost analysis of cadet training against recruitment and retention in the Police, I’ve a feeling that cadet schemes would be closed shortly afterwards – a large proportion had either not joined, or not stayed on.

One truly odd coincidence occurred during the evening. I was looking forward to meeting a chap called Peter Squires– we both had the same cynical outlook on life back then :D – but, as with everyone else, I’d not stayed in touch. We met up and got talking – it turns out he never joined the police, but instead went to university and is now a Professor of Criminology in Brighton. He’s recently started reading my journal and mentioned that his next door neighbour had a similar bike to mine. I only know one member of UKGSer who lives in Brighton (although I’m sure there are actually many) – so I said ‘He doesn’t play the guitar, does he?’ – Peter looked at me quizzically ‘Actually he does – he’s got his own band…’. Peter’s next door neighbour is Dick Langford – UKGSer’s ‘Guitarman’…

The evening races by and I’m soon saying goodbye and realising, to my surprise, that it’s gone 0100. The venue has vastly over-catered for food (amazing – I though a load of policeman would be impossible to overcater for…), so I take a load of ‘doggy bags’ back for Simon & Claire. When I arrive at their house at just after 0200, I manage, whilst entering the kitchen to put the food in the fridge, to set off the burglar alarm. Sorry Claire…:(

Sunday morning I manage to have a quick cup of tea with Mike Belch, before going to see my parents for Sunday lunch. I’m at last able to put a link on my Dad’s desktop to the journal (I only gave him the computer – his first – a few months before I left and he’s struggled to get to grips with it). It’s good to meet up with the folks again – my father wasn’t well when I left, and his health has yo-yoed during the trip…

After lunch, I press north up the M5, planning to be in Lincoln this evening, where I’m going to stay with Nick and Mallory, some RAF mates. I’m tired, so stop for something to eat at Strensham Service Area (fish & chips – more good British nosh :p).

I’m just buying some water for the journey when a chap suddenly says ‘Excuse me – are you Mike?’ – I’ve never seen him before. I say I am and he, Richard, explains that he’s been reading my journal for a while and recognized me from the photos. He says he’s enjoyed reading it and wishes me luck with my interview. What an odd coincidence! I’m a little spooked by the event (though not by Richard, who’s a very nice chap and sends me a PM the next day) …

I arrive with Nick & Mal at about 1700 and immediately get into several cans of Boddingtons, after which the memory of the evening fades into soft focus, really…

Monday dawns and Mallory joins me on the trip over to Norwich to have a look at the flat I’ve arranged to view. On the way, we stop and I sample something I’ve been missing…

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…sorry, but, inventive though American breakfasts are, you’ve got to come to the UK for a proper English breakfast.

I also sample things I’ve not missed…

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…like excessive traffic, speed cameras…

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…right-wing bigoted tabloid newspapers…

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…and of course, the conversation stopper in the USA when they complain about the high price of their fuel…

After checking out the flat (no garage, so no good – made an appointment to see another tomorrow), we head home, spotting that someone’s left their Hawker Hunter in the car park of an hotel off the A17…

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Arriving back near Lincoln, we spend the evening watching a movie on Nick’s huge home cinema projector TV, then I have a relatively early night, in preparation for my interview the following afternoon.

The next day, I once again drive up to Norwich & view the flat – which is OK, but unexciting – it’ll do for 6 months and, critically, it has a garage. I explain to the agent that I’ll not be able to decide whether I want it until after I know the result of my interview, then drive to Wymondham (pronounced ‘Windom’) for my 1300 appointment.

The interview seemed to go pretty well, although it was difficult to judge – it was ‘Competency Based’ – which provides very little feedback. I'll know the result at the end of next week.

I’m out by 1500 and drive back to Lincoln – finding that the new phone I‘ve got is having an identity crisis for a couple of hours as it switches over to allow me to keep my old number. I subsequently find I’ve lost at least one voicemail and a text message during this transition…

After a few beers and an excellent roast dinner (the final British culinary delight I’d been missing), I go to bed late, intending to sleep in the following day.

As usual, the plan doesn’t work. I get a phone call from my ex-girlfriend asking if she can come and see me. She does and we have a chat for a few hours before I leave at midday – heading through some horrible weather as I finally get to Heathrow at 1500. I was distracted by the violent rain and wet roads and I forget to fill the car up – they charge me about £15 to remind me next time…:rolleyes:

I’m soon through security and settling down in the departure lounge – this time fully equipped with my wireless card. Of course, this time, there’s no wireless connection…:yelrotflm

We’re boarded and airborne on time, arriving at JFK 3 films and 7¼ hrs later. After a remarkably quick clearance through Immigration and Customs (10 minutes total!), I phone Rob, to find out what his ETA is. He thought I was coming back tomorrow :yelrotflm

We arrange to meet up tomorrow at the Howard Johnson Inn near the airport. After a 40 minute wait for the ‘Air Train’, I get the shuttle to the hotel, check in and am asleep before my head hits the pillow – it’s only 2300 local but feels like 0400 to me…

A bit of a crazy week, but, if all goes well, a productive one…
 


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