After my last blog, I thought I would get back to having a bit of light-hearted fun. Even though I have more 'baggage' than the backlog at Heathrow Airport; I really prefer having a bit of banter. I leave some very painful life stories for another time. So let the festivities commence.
When I moved back to England, I was most surprised to be informed that I had become two months older. This was most confusing to a guy who was still working out, that in Britain, we drive on the opposite side of the road. I thought that Britain was eight time zones ahead of Vancouver. So what's with with this 'two months' situation? Had I actually gone back a whopping two months in time zones? So what happened? Had I entered the 'Twilight Zone?'
The confusion started when somebody asked me some personal details. "Date of birth?" I was asked. I replied July 5th 1953. The lady wrote down on the form 05/07/53. What's going on here? I thought. Well, excuse me, I wasn't born on May 7th. Heck, at my age, you want to be feeling younger, not two months older! Then I found out that we reverse the dates here.
So now I shall tell you about October 9th (sorry! 9th October, 1988) My former spouse had gone into labour and was on the verge of giving birth to our son Tristan. I looked anxiously at my watch. Could she hold out for a few hours more? There were moments when I thought she was ready to give birth. Hang on dear, I thought. What's a few more hours of agony? The hours ticked by and then it became the 10th of October. Imagine my relief when Tristan was born on 10/10/88! No confusion, no worrying about dates being reversed. How considerate of my former spouse!
When I first moved back to England, I recall going to a pizza restaurant. Upon looking around I noticed that the other customers were eating their pizza with a knife and fork. So I'm thinking, people, it's already sliced, grab a slice with your fingers and shovel it into your mouth. Well, that's what most uncivilised North Americans do. Still, different country, different customs.
Undaunted, I thought to heck with it. I bravely grabbed a slice of pizza and lifted it towards my mouth. No knife, no fork, none of that for this dude. The other customers gasped. Responsible adults covered their children's eyes. Look at that guy over there eating pizza with his fingers! Oh I'm such a rebel!
So I ask you this, good people. Do you eat pizza with your fingers? Or do you eat them separately?
Kind regards adanac67 ( a guy who wants to know: When I read on a bottle of juice:'Dilute to Taste.' Does that mean if I don't dilute it, I can't taste it?)