If It’s Okay For Me To Mention This….

….I grew tired of growing old waiting to see when Frontiers would finally appear on Goodreads. I checked again yesterday (the first time in weeks), and it still wasn’t on the site. I’d had enough:

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Jane Austen Forever

The other day I happened to see an Inside the Actors Studio interview with Brad Pitt. Unsurprisingly George Clooney’s name came up. Hearing it led me into thinking about Clooney’s rise to stardom.

You’ve probably seen the post title already. Stay with me, please. This will all make much better, uh, “sense” (and sensibility?) as you scroll down.

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A Cutting Experience

Needing a haircut, I decided to take an hour or two away from the computer yesterday morning. We’re still new in the area, and I ventured into a barber shop I’d been to once before. My cutter this time was not who’d cut my hair previously, but I recalled he had been there trimming someone else the last time.

He seemed around my age. Initially he was soft-spoken and I detected “oddly” accented. Also appearing to be somewhat (in my book, as part that heritage myself) “Mediterranean,” I suspected he might not be from these shores.

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During A Walk In The English Rain

We passed this on “a ramble” yesterday:

Outside Trowbridge, Wiltshire, welcoming drivers and walkers. [Photo by me, 2015.]
Outside Trowbridge, Wiltshire, welcoming drivers and walkers. [Photo by me, 2015.]
Just before I snapped that, we’d stopped for a break. I was thirsty. So I had one of these:

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Canary Surprise

My wife received an email yesterday from a former neighbo(u)r of ours. She’s flying to the Canary Islands today. She and her husband are selling a holiday flat they’ve owned there for several decades.

The Canary Islands. Wikipedia. [Screen capture by me, 2015.]
The Canary Islands. Wikipedia. [Screen capture by me, 2015.]

In the message she explained to Mrs. Nello that she’s taking Frontiers (the paperback) along. (She doesn’t do Kindle.) She wrote she hadn’t read it yet and is looking forward to it for the airport wait and plane journey. She wanted Mrs. Nello to let me know.

Hmm, I wonder…. what she’ll…. think of it?:

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Mes Amis

Hot chocolate:

Hot Chocolate, Mes Amis, Beckington. [Photo by me, 2015.]
Hot Chocolate, Mes Amis, Beckington. [Photo by me, 2015.]
I had that yesterday afternoon, at Mes Amis. It’s in Beckington (which sounds like a great surname for a fictional English character in a novel), Somerset.

And, yes, it was delicious. :-)

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Dirty Foreheads

As you may know, yesterday was Ash Wednesday for many Christians. I’m not an “obsessive.” But I do try to observe reasonably.

After getting ashes at church, I stopped in at a small supermarket. At the check-out, the woman cashier – in her late teens to early twenties, I guess – chatted with me briefly. Suddenly, she looked at me a bit strangely.

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Americans Make The Movies (And At Times, We’re Really Sorry)

I’ve spent much of the last 25 years often as the (only) American in the room – be it with family, friends, or workplace colleagues. As you know if you visit here regularly, I’ve now also spent several years writing novels in which I’ve created characters sourced from some of my (especially early) “travel” and “expat” experiences. They are full of types of people I’ve encountered, and even cherished, and what I’ve seen here in Europe.

I can’t begin to list the nationalities I’ve met in just London: nearly every European country; Africans from Egypt and Morocco all the way to South Africa; Afro-Caribbeans; Middle Easterners; Indians; Chinese; other Asians; Canadians; Australians; New Zealanders; Brazilians; even a few other South Americans. And all the religions: not only Christians of course, but Jews, Hindus, Sikhs, and Muslims. It feels like a far more “diverse” city than even New York.

I will always remember a Pakistani student, right after 9/11. He offered me personal condolences. He flat out called the attackers “terrorists”: no qualifications, no hesitation.

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Slurring Language

Black British screenwriter and director Amma Asante jumped in on CNN yesterday in defense of actor Benedict Cumberbatch. He’d used the word “colo(u)red” on a U.S. TV talk show. She feels the anger directed at him for saying it is missing the point:

Opinion: Cumberbatch misspoke — now let’s get over it and fight real prejudice

Two countries separated by a common language. To understand Cumberbatch’s employing it requires first remembering that he’s not an American. It is now a decidedly “old-fashioned” word here in Britain, yes; but it is not unheard of coming very occasionally from younger whites (like Cumberbatch), although it’s far more likely to be uttered by one born before “1945.”

An older person I know had straight-faced congratulated me this way upon Obama’s election in 2008: “You have a coloured president now. America’s so much more open-minded. It’s wonderful.” Based on the contexts, as I’ve heard it, it is used as synonymous with “black.” Although it could certainly be tossed out as a slur or a put down, that’s not how I’ve (mostly) heard it said.

But how we internalize others’ descriptions of our race or ethnic background is intensely personal of course. I am not black and I would not presume to speak for anyone else as to how they interpret any description leveled at themselves. That said, the language issue raised there led me to recall a vivid, personal experience.

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