MonsterFool

Today was Mothering Sunday in the UK, otherwise known as Mother’s Day. I got here just in time, didn’t I? There’s nary a sign or advertisement for Saint Patrick’s Day in the shops around here– it’s all been about Mums. “Treat Mum On Her Special Day!” A couple of times this week I’ve had to check myself on the date and month. Wait, is it May already? Did I lose five hours and TWO months? No, it’s just that Mother’s Day is early in the British Isles.

By which I mean ancient. Mothering Sunday has a long religious and cultural history. Its roots are likely the Roman festival of spring, honoring Cybele, the mother goddess, although that tradition was probably grafted onto an older one. The Church then integrated it into its liturgical calendar, making it the fourth Sunday in Lent, halfway through the Lenten season, and a day to honor the Virgin Mary.

In the sixteenth century, Mothering Sunday was a day when Christians would visit the church where they were baptized–the “Mother Church”– or they’d go “a-mothering” to the nearest Cathedral. In later centuries it was traditionally the one day a year that men and women “in the service” (maids and servants) were allowed to take leave to visit their families. The servants would not show up empty handed, but bring their mothers a cake, flowers, or some little gift.

We went a-mothering to the pub. Seemed like a good idea, as our favorite (excuse me, favourite) pub serves up tasty roast dinner on Sundays, complete with Yorkshire pudding–a dish I grew up with thanks to my own mother whose father was from an English family.

A half pint, a game of “Snap,” and some tasty grub with my family made for a lovely English Mother’s Day. I don’t mind celebrating it early at all. Only I wish they’d hurry spring up to accompany it. This is the first Mother’s Day I’ve worn my winter coat and hat.

That’s a custom I could do without.

Past the colorful beach huts of Hove.

With much chagrin I discovered that the “shower cream” I bought at the pound shop on Wednesday was not, in fact, cream to rub on one’s body after a shower, but shower wash, as in soap. Yeah, I probably should have figured that one out in the store, but my excuse is Jet Lag and I’m sticking to it for as long as someone keeps pressing my “on” switch at midnight and my “off” switch when the alarm goes off at 7AM.

I hate jet lag. In Pattern Recognition, William Gibson calls it “soul delay”: whereas bodies can be propelled across vast distance and time, the soul can’t manage to keep up with the flight. It trails along, taking its own ancient path to come back to the body, which in its absence runs amok: too tired, too jazzed, too bright, too dark, too hot, too cold. Too much.

Too dry. When my soul is late I get dry skin.

So off we went to Boots–”The Midnight Pharmacy”–although as far as I can tell, it’s not open at midnight and never has been. At least that was the case in December 2008 when I went there at 8PM to get a prescription filled. Nope. Not open. Closed. Dark as midnight.

When my soul is late, I have bizarre thoughts.

Well, maybe they mean they’re open when it’s midnight in Hong Kong, or San Francisco. Maybe Boots is on soul time. Maybe Boots has the spirit of a midnight pharmacy but they just can’t manage it with bodies. Maybe they just want you to know there’s a place called The Midnight Pharmacy when your empty body can’t sleep at midnight and your skin is itchy.

In all likelihood, though, it’s like the shower cream and I’m missing something. Something that will make sense when my soul clears customs and immigration.

I hope it arrives tonight, maybe with a souvenir from the Canary Islands or wherever it must have stopped over. I’ve left the light on, and I’ve moisturized.

With any luck I’ll be asleep at midnight!

This afternoon we took the #49 bus to Hove to drop in on the Hove Home Ed Playgroup. This picture was taken from the front seat of the top deck, our favorite spot.

Today was Get Life Set up in Brighton and it went OK except for when we petered out a bit in the afternoon. So Sam and I took her scooter and went down the road to the beach promenade and playground. Things about Brighton are slowly coming back to her but she definitely remembered throwing stones in the sea, and searching for sea shells, and bringing a bucketful back to the flat.

But both of us had forgotten about the coastal wind in Brighton–the wind that plays with hats and makes you think you forgot to put any clothes on. This is also the wind that turns rain into the dreaded “sideways rain.”

Sideways rain is rain with the special ability to lash your face and push you around, usually into a puddle. We remember sideways rain.

The other day Sam said to her father,
“Everything but one is exciting about Brighton!”

AC asked, “What one?”

Sam replied, “Sideways rain.”

But we’ve been here over 24 hours and so far there’s been no rain, sideways or otherwise!

I’d throw salt over my shoulder except that I didn’t remember to buy salt at the grocery store today.

Greetings from the United Kingdom! We’re here. We’re fine. We’re fuzzy around the edges. The sun is setting over the sea and it just seems both way too soon and loads too late.

Stories to come, especially about our taxi ride from Heathrow to Brighton. A Scotsman from Dundee drove us. When you look at the above photo, do you think, “Good God he’s in the passenger seat!”

I do. And I did. Even though this is my 5th trip to the isle. Did I mention fuzzy around the edges?

We’re packed. Next post will be from Brighton!

The last pancakes we’ll be having for a while, at least with maple syrup. My recollection is that maple syrup is très cher in the UK. So we’ll have to make do with honey or golden syrup or jam. I’m looking forward to future culinary experiments in the UK (see Bubble and Squeak from October 2008) but I sure will miss my mother’s pancakes.

We were packing up toys today and Sam decided that each of her Dorbies needed a UK visa too.

We took a short walk in Ridley Creek State Park this afternoon. Other than when she zoomed ahead on her scooter, Sam has not let her father out of her sight today.