Jonathan Swift in the mattress store

more Virginia notes

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WholeFoods was out of chocolate covered almonds this evening. All of the whole grains were fully stocked. I would guess that between a third and a half of the food they sell has sugar added in some form. Almonds coated in dark chocolate and with added peanut butter are quite delicious.

We bought ours beds at Mattress Firm where I discovered that the assistant (who was really excellent, I cannot recommend them enough—the store on Langston Blvd) is a big fan of Gulliver’s Travels. We chatted briefly about Nigerian literature and he recommended Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s novels to me. He says he is not a big reader but his daughter passes him many books. As I left, he said it was time for him to re-read Swift.

He reminded me of a barmaid in rural Nova Scotia who I spoke to recently. Her favourite author is Bulgakov. She (and he) had more lively, earnest conversation about books than you will find at many literary gatherings.

Although it has generally been easy to move to the US (there are many ways around not having a Social Security Number while you set up utilities and so forth), not having a US mobile or address (we move in soon) is actually the most limiting factor. I am on WhatsApp here with my British number but that is oddly insufficient. The one thing we cannot get sorted is wifi.

I saw an advert which claimed that 60% of American cats are overweight. They were selling some sort of healthy or slimming cat food. The advert included Garfield heaving his belly while the vet talked about lasagne. But really, how does a cat become obese?

It is hard to know whether oatmeal here means oatmeal or porridge. They call it steel cut oatmeal, but is that what Laura and Mary would have eaten? I doubt it.

I am told that Murder, She Wrote was not filmed in Maine, but in northern California. This was quite disappointing.

Talking about how there are no unmarked vans here (whereas in Britain there are many rather unpleasant looking such vans), my wife joked that everything is called something like “The Great American Fence Company”. The next day we saw some fencing outside a bar which was branded “Superior Fences”. Then a truck for the “Patriot Garbage Disposal” company. A friend sent a picture of a white van with a huge American flag on the side.

CVS sells survival guide magazines.

The monarch butterflies are three times the size they are in England.

So many people have been astonished to hear that we had no dishwasher in London for the last eight years. It is common to see the statistic that only half of UK houses have dishwashers. That is unthinkable to the people here. When I tell them that UK energy prices are too high for most people to use their dryer, they are just nonplussed. The Americans do not hang their wet laundry in the house! The closets and cupboards are far, far larger. It makes me laugh. My son mistook one of them for a small bedroom.

At one reception, noting the prevalence of dog treats everywhere, I discussed why there are so many dogs in Arlington, despite the relative lack of open space for them to run around or attend to their business. And yet, the streets are largely free of mess. I was told, by the receptionist who is from upstate New York where it makes more sense to own a dog, that the streets of Arlington are regularly cleaned by city street cleaners. This attentive attitude is everywhere. Restrooms in all sorts of places are much nicer to use than in England. The Americans in Arlington, Virginia do not see cleaning and clearing as drudgery, but as a job to be swiftly dispatched, a point of pride. And so it is done without much fuss or complaint. It is a sort-of Mary Poppins attitude.

The dogs are also well-behaved. More than once, a dog-owner has made their animal stop and sit while my children walk past. This is unthinkable in England. There is much more politeness of all kinds here. Cars stop swiftly, willingly, and with a smile when you cross even a large and busy road. When I am tired, I am almost wearied by the extent of the greetings and pleasantries. We English like to think of ourselves as well mannered, but we are not—not by Virginian standards.

At home, people are often surprised by the extent of my interest in and enthusiasm towards America. I am supposed to be “quintessentially British” in some way. (The quintessence of Britishness is surely in not defining yourself or your Britishness too carefully.) Today, after joking that “the British are as cold as their weather”, someone told me that I am not very British, but quite American.

Britain would be a happier country if its people flew their flag(s) as regularly, normally, and proudly as the Americans fly theirs. The liberal tree requires patriotic soil.