the little differences that keep life interesting...

slowly but surely i'm coming across some of the little differences in language which can lead to embaressment and mirth. it started when i told Alex that i'd put zucchini in the stir fry. "around here," i was told in a straightforward, but helpful way, "it's called a corgette."

eggplants are aubergines, but a loo is still a loo. i'm pretty sure i could get away with referring to it as a bog as well... although not in front of the Queen where it's a lavataory.

a buck's night is a stag night, but hens are still hens. i was corrected on that factoid when we spotted 3 of them, all going in different directions, meeting on a street corner in Piccadilly Circus on a night out in the city. Alex is in the habit of correcting me on these things almost with the sternness of a school ma'am, saying "In Britain, which is where you are, it's called a..." because sometimes i need reminding...

warm beer actually means room temperature... or at least the temperature of the cellar it's stored in, the tap pumps it up the pipes rather than it being force-fed under pressure, needing a couple of pulls to pour the pint and contrary to expectations it's quite pleasantly drinkable. Fosters is in fact served on tap in most of the pubs i've been in so far, but they serve beer as well.

a bottlo or bottle shop is an off-licence and i couldn't help but laugh out loud when we walked into one this evening and found that they had XXXX by the carton in pride of place in the window. when you can get some seriously drinkable polish and czech and belgian beers on the cheap i have no idea why people drink that dirty water, but if i find someone selling Carlton Draught, VB or Pure Blonde i'm getting some, even if just the educate some of the locals.

the public transport system is fantastic and not a shambles, but you do still hear people complain about it when they get delayed a couple of minutes. it takes a lot to get me to use public transport at home. a gun to the head is usually effective, or being in Sydney or Melbourne for a couple of days can usually do it. i've been in a car once since i got here, and then for less than 5 minutes. i have no idea when it'll happen again but i know it won't be soon. the buses still run most of the main routes throughout the night, so before you go out to Islington for an "you can sleep when you're dead" bender you just make sure there's an N-service running and you're set... or you pile as many people as possible into a cab and crash somewhere central.

a kebab uses a pita bread half the size of what i'm used to which is split open and filled, rather than being rolled up. how people eat this on the move i'm still trying to work out. i haven't been able to eat one without it falling to pieces yet.

the hot water is turned off and on like a lightswitch to save power and the water pressure would embarress a 4 year old with a weak bladder but somehow everyone else seems to be able to get all the shampoo out of their hair.

people don't complain about how far they have to walk to get somewhere unless it's over half an hour, it's raining and they forgot their jacket. i remember the moans of complaint i've heard from people when you park at the far end of the car park from the supermarket. here i've carried two armloads of groceries home from the shop in hail and been grateful it was only 25 minutes.

young people don't share houses or flats here - they share rooms so they can afford the rent. you can live comfortably in London on P15k/year. an acceptable starting wage is 7-8/hour, but if you know where to look you can have lunch for P3, and a healthy all you can eat vegetarian buffet for P4.50. enough pre-made soups, pizzas and some pasta and sauces to last 4-5 days can cost as little as a tenner if you're careful and when surrounded by so much decent, cheap food people still flock to Maccas where the prices are almost dollar-for-pound. Pizza Hut charges P11 for a large pizza, but Sainsburys will sell you two for P2.80 that take 5 minutes in the oven.

people sleep shoulder to ankle (we're in a 2 bedroom flat with 6 people in it (the living room's been converted to a bedroom)), but they don't complain about overcrowding. terrace houses are the norm until you get half an hour out of the CBD so the population density is staggering. that sort of density makes it worth running buses, trains and tubes ever 3-5 minutes in peak hours and each one is comfortably packed with people and if a line's starting to get chockers in the morning THEY RUN MORE FUCKING BUSES! a high density draws in the merchants, so when i walk out my front door there's a fried chicken place to the left and a 24-hour convenience store to the right. if i walk 3 minutes i'll go past 2 more fried chicken places, 2 chinese take aways, 3 off-licence convenience stores, one bottlo, a tappas place, an eritrean restaurant, 2 kebab/burger & chips takeaways, 2 high-end delis, 2 dry cleaners, a laundromat, 2 real estate agents and a great southern indian restaurant and this is achieveable because it's so packed together that it's worth it. no fucker has a back yard, but no one i've spoken to cares or else they'd move out to the 'burbs. people don't complain - they just get on with it. everyone gripes, i mean everyone, everywhere, but people don't complain and pontificate about how the government should do something (the whinging pom is dead, or so it seems. they're all too busy apologising for shit they have no control over, like the weather, or the trains running late. i don't understand it either). if they don't like it they fuck off to Manchester or Liverpool. Birmingham's a couple of hours away by train, so you can still come into the city on the weekends. hell - there are people who live in the Midlands and commute into London every day by train, then tube the rest of the way to the CBD, taking two to three hours each way, 5-6 days a week. no one expects to have it all, all at once, so they move around as it suits them.

it's all remarkably entertaining, and i'm loving every confused glance i get when i use a phrase i thought was universal, but turns out it isn't. i told a South African guy today that i was going to bomb something, which i then had to explain meant that i was going to do something poorly and fail (in this case intentionally. alas i failed at failing, but that's another story). i'm loving being different, and obviously so, but only when i want to be... like whenever i open my mouth, grin and say g'day! otherwise, no one notices yet another guy walking by wearing black which is working out pretty well for me right now...