Tag: books

Just for the record, yes, I’ve settled in.

It’s interesting what has become a standard conversation piece. Oftentimes in the states it would be “did you watch the game last night?” or “how are you coping with the weather?” or even “can you believe what Politician X did?!” (the last one is only when you know you’re safe.) So I prepared myself for local conversation by having a standard answer to what I assumed the question would be:

1. Weather: “Oh, I’m used to it getting even hotter than this.” Which evolved into “Yes, it is rather warm.” Then “this is a miserable heat wave!” (because they couldn’t hear that 28/82 degrees C/F was lovely beach weather.)
2. Sports: “I actually have been watching York City, so I’m not partial to either Manchester team.” This in turn has evolved into “Wow, if Stockport has a team I’ll root for them!” (like politics, this has turned out to be a safe answer.)
3. Weather, Part 2: “I didn’t know that Manchester is one of the rainiest places in the country.” This evolved into “I’ve been lucky.” Then “oh, I’ve got a rain coat and boots and 2 umbrellas.”

But the unexpected conversation that I have now had with literally every person I meet – “Settling in?”

In all honesty, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer that.

Obviously, yes. I’ve got all I need for the house, gotten used to the bus/train schedules. Got my cat. Started decorating my walls.

Sleeping well, eating much better than I have in a long time. Thinking in pounds and Celcius, not dollars and Fahrenheit. But each time I hear those words I have an existential crisis.

What exactly is settling in? How long does it take? When do I stop giving a long answer, and let it evolve into “Yup!”

Because when I say just that, no one believes me. Perhaps I’m missing something, a secret marker that will indicate when the settle has ended. Or perhaps the actual settle hasn’t happened, and there are still multiple hurdles that will rear their ugly heads soon. I’ll suddenly make some huge social faux paus and everyone around me will solemnly shake their heads and mutter “She thought she was settled in.”

Like the tagline to Jaws – “Just when you thought it was safe to stop settling…”

Of course, I won’t be really settled in until I get my belongings. The ones that I boxed up 3 months ago and handed to a (hopefully) trustworthy moving company. (Which, by the way, brings up yet another difference. In the US, it’s a moving company. In the UK it’s a REmoval company. I don’t really want things removed, I want them moved. Much confusion on my end.) The material things that matter to me, that have great sentimental value –

Alright, you called it. My books, and a few other odds and ends. Like my summer clothes. That I could be wearing in this unbearable heat wave.

They have gone from my garage to a warehouse to a freighter to a dock to a warehouse to another warehouse and hopefully will arrive at my house sometime before the holidays. Although not having my books has led me to a whole new habit of visiting a local indie bookshop and Waterstones on a regular basis. Even found a new fantasy author who sets his humorous supernatural novels in Manchester. He’s no Terry Pratchett, but they are really very good. None, however that will go on my bookcase in the living room. Because that will be the home of my favourite authors, the best of the best (in my opinion.)

Why? Because that bookcase was given to me by a colleague who got it from a person who was a student of JRR Tolkien. Who gave her the bookcase when he was her tutor. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have a bookcase that once held books held by Tolkien. It is currently empty, but soon my own library will be settled into –

Oh, wait, maybe THAT’S it! I won’t be settled in until everything is settled in.

I hope that settles it!