Posts tagged "beer"

Monday Night Football at the Olympics

“Are you ready for some FOOTBALL????” We were. En route to our last scheduled event with tickets for football at Wembley on a Monday night, we were more than ready for some football. To Americans it may be called soccer, but in the UK it was and is football. Logical given it’s played with foot.... Read more »

Second Amendment Justice

As read in UK press and USA The Week, a man in Nevada carrying a legally concealed gun-shot himself in the tush. I’ll resist The Onion-esque headline, What an Ass. After London–where carrying means walking through an organic farmers market carrying a plastic draft beer–the justice of an idiot shooting himself was too sweet. Carrying... Read more »

What I learned in London--during the 2012 Olympics

Lessons learned during London’s 2012 Olympics were varied and scattershot.  But as always, educational. Two young men in red flag Canadian tee shirts were pushing a bin full to bursting with packaged snack foods. They stopped at the pedestrian crossing light. Chatting them up, we learned these are the party nibbles for the Canadian athletes.... Read more »
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The Pub is NOT a Bar

The Pub is NOT a Bar
When you say to Americans, “we went to the pub with the grand kids”–you see it in their eyes. Their concern, their speed dial thoughts to Children and Family Services in the OMG assumption. You took a KID to the BAR?? What are you Alcoholic Anonymous wanna-bees? Many pubs in the UK–at least pubs I’ve... Read more »

Olympic Event no. 2-Beach Volleyball

Olympic Event no. 2-Beach Volleyball
Some might think of it as BABES and BOYS playing on sand. As for me, I’ll always think it as that crazy, sold-out event, the acclaimed red hot ticket of London’s 2012 Olympics. The Greeks would have loved it. Queen Victoria– not so much. It began early last Thursday morning. Just another workday for most... Read more »
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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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