Uh-oh, my wife discovered eBay...

“ARE you ready…?” I ask for like the twenty-seventh time as we slowly head towards the door.

“Nearly, veeerrry nearly…” Jacks replies.

“Just wait 21, 20, no… 19 seconds…”

“Huh?”

“YES!” Cue Jacks punching air in triumphant fashion.

“I won!!!”

“Huh?!”

Yep, that was the moment last month when I inadvertently discovered my wife had firmly discovered eBay.

Dear lord.

The next week-and-a-half was a standout time in the Nichols casa in the 16 months since we moved to England.

You see, I now know that pairs of women’s knee-high boots, chunky warm jumpers and most long ‘dressy’ dresses just won’t fit through most front door letter box.

I know this for a fact.

And I know because every day for what seemed like an age I came home from work to find one, two, three… maybe five… Royal Mail ‘sorry we missed you’ cards posted through the door.

Some of these cards even mentioned the fact that ‘5’ items are “waiting for you”.

You've got (a lot of) mail

Wow.

It took maybe a week for me to determine the extent of my wife’s new found love of eBay.

And by that time we’d already been to the Royal Mail sorting office five or six times to pick up the various items of post. 

At one point the beleaguered-looking chap behind the counter stated that Jacks had set a “new record” with 36 items ready to pick up in one hit. I nearly had to rent a van.

Parcel force

You see, as I found in Mexico, it’s not easy to order something for delivery like that.

Tijuana didn’t - to my knowledge - boast a reliable Royal Mail equivalent. And then I was told things often go missing.

The alternative is to get something delivered to a friend across the border in the States who can then re-deliver. But of course it’s a ball-ache just for you to get your post.

So yes, as Jacks settles properly into English life, with its penchant for consumerism, I guess it was only a matter of time before one (wo)man’s junk became her treasure.

I’m as much to blame as anyone having amounted quite a sizeable collection of G1 Transformers toys during a nostalgic phase I went through, plus an absolute boat-load of All Saints gear.

Boy do we need a bigger house.

So I mentioned before that I’ve been a bit slack on the blogging front.

You see, when you’re living in a different country with different culture, food and people, it’s easy to feel inspired.

When you come back to everything you know it’s difficult to create that same level of creative spark.

Jacks and I have discussed switching up the blog so we shine a light on her English experiences but we’re not quite there yet… 16 months down the line.

So instead I guess it’s up to me to pick out the amusing bits of life here in England as we experience new things for the first time.

Like the time a couple of months ago when we went to see Jacks’ beloved ponies on Dartmoor – and how we go one stuck in the car.

I guess it’s also worth mentioning that the summer is now pretty much ‘over’ in England – aside from some miracle occurrence.

Did we see 30 degrees in Plymouth? Did we f*ck.

Did Jacks actually feel warm at all this summer? Nope.

This is pretty summer defined in Plymouth (and indeed the UK as a whole): 

We did buy a frikkin 14ft-long sea kayak though (ahem... as a tool to make us make the most of the outdoors regardless of the weather...)

Oh, readers interested in hearing how our chili crop is going this year will be pleased to see that our jalapenos are finally producing! And there’s more to come.

From this...

To this!

Beauties!

Right, we’re off to explore and find inspiration!

Greetings peeps! Play nice ;-) x

@tristan_nichols

Oh, no it isn’t… oh, yes it is - the panto!

OH, NO it isn’t… oh, yes it is.

It’s a blog about the annual British pantomime – or ‘panto’ for short.

This past weekend saw my Mexican wife’s latest induction to her new life in England.

For those of you in the US and overseas, the dictionary definition of pantomime is this: ‘a theatrical entertainment, mainly for children, which involves music, topical jokes, and slapstick comedy and is based on a fairy tale or nursery story, usually produced around Christmas’.

After sitting through the hour-and-a-half performance at Plymouth’s Theatre Royal, Jacky’s definition of a pantomime is simply this: ‘It’s crazy’.

The Christmas panto is a British tradition. It’s as British as you can get – and its roots reportedly go all the way back to the 16^th century.

Men dress up as women, women dress up as men, they sing songs, tell rude jokes and just have a laugh.

It’s bonkers, bizarre and quite brilliant in its silliness.

I hadn’t been to the panto since my mum won tickets in a newspaper competition when I was about seven or eight.

And boy did I NOT notice the sexual innuendos back then.

The kids love the audience participation, and the colour and ridiculousness of it all – not least the songs and chorus of ‘he’s behind you… oh no he isn’t, oh yes he is…’ lines.

The adults love the clever (but silly) jokes, the double entendres, the forgotten lines and mistakes, and the occasional glances from the stars referencing how ridiculous it all is.

I couldn’t help but glance over at Jacks throughout the whole ordeal, sorry show, to check that she wasn’t horrified by what she was seeing.

The expressions on her face spoke volumes of her enjoyment of the show.

Panto selfie

Huge credit has got to go to the entertainer (and true star of the show) Bobby Davro who – on greeting the audience and revealing how happy he was to be back in Plymouth, went on to he’s the only entertainer of his age left who “isn’t in prison” (referencing the ongoing sexual abuse scandals rocking the British entertainment industry).

Fair point.

And if the panto itself wasn’t crazy enough, the annual panto after show party made for a pretty wild night.

Here, on the top floor of the venue, saw a mix of panto stars and theatre employees, footballers, journalists and city businessmen – with a large shot of something very alcoholic.

“You’re hungover…?” friends asked us the morning after the show with a look of equal part disbelief and horror.

“You went to a kids pantomime and got drunk?!”

“Have you been to a panto recently…? Wow…” I smirked.

“Times have changed…”

A journalist colleague of mine told me recently that one year one of the previous stars of the Plymouth panto asked if he could do his interview “lying down”.

The interview just so happened to take place the morning after the panto party.

Anyhow, watching the Christmas pantomime is another tick on the list.

Now we’re set for our first Christmas together in the UK.

Oh, yes it is… it’s CHRISTMAS!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Twitter: @tristan_nichols

Traditions, and the war against the cold

Meet 'Teddy'.

This 8-inch-tall furry fellow is my Mexican wife's latest weapon in the war against the British winter.

If having three duvets on the bed at night isn't enough (with Jacks more often than not wearing her down coat to sleep), we now share our space with a cute Teddy covered hot water bottle.

Naked Teddy

And winter has only just begun.

Since arriving from San Diego/Tijuana seven months ago it's fair to say we've invested heavily in combating the onslaught of a traditional British winter.

Jacks has never experienced one before.

This time last year we were preparing our Thanksgiving meal in board shorts and t-shirts whilst contemplating heading to the beach at the weekend.

This time last year Jacks had never heard of 'central heating' or 'hot water bottles'.

This year, right now, we're donning hats and scarves in the house, and seriously contemplating hibernating until the spring.

In the last month my wife has well and truly discovered the joys of shopping – notably in charity shops.

So much so that I'm also contemplating buying a bigger house just to accommodate her new 'wardrobe'.

Jacks arrived here in the UK in May with one thin San Diego-style jacket/coat (i.e. a cardigan).

By my count she now has eight 'proper' coats. Oh, and enough scarves to shake a stick at.

In the last few weeks we've properly experienced some very English traditions as a couple – Bonfire Night being one.

Our friends in Mexico and San Diego have been asking us: "What the hell is going on in those pictures?! "

Bonfire Night on Plymouth Hoe

Simple, that is to someone from these shores.

Guy Fawkes night.

Traditions are weird right? I mean, when you're from a different area of the world experiencing something for the first time.

What one culture thinks is perfectly normal, another finds completely weird – bordering on bonkers.

In Mexico they have the ’Dia De La Muerta’ (’Day of the Dead’) during which dead people’s lives are celebrated.

At first I thought that fairly weird – not least wandering into a Mexican supermarket in downtown Tijuana to be greeted by a full-sized altar complete with skulls and cobwebs.

But after being told what it’s all about (celebrating the lives of those who've passed) it didn’t seem so sinister.

However, you try explaining the tradition of Guy Fawkes night…

"Well, you throw an effigy of a ’man’ (or 'guy') onto a fire, and everyone stands around watching it slowly burn generally while having a good time. "

Cue confused, (almost frightened) look.

"It's a real family occasion," I said now desperately trying to convince Jacks that it's not really that weird.

"People come from all around... thousands in fact. They have fireworks and everything!"

Plenty of 'oohs and ahhhs' going on here...

They even have sparklers!

"Remind me of the story of Bonfire Night," Jacks asked me by now looking more perplexed.

"Well… some guy called Guy Fawkes (who apparently was a bit of bastard), tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament in ffuuuussssbvvvvv um… – anyway, the date doesn’t matter.

"They caught him, and they burned him alive, thus creating the reference throwing a 'guy' on the fire."

When you consider it, our tradition is much more sinister-sounding than the 'Dia de la Muerta' right?

So anyway, it's cold here and it's only going to get colder.

I keep asking Jacks if she's still 'happy' here.

She hasn't said 'no' yet so I think I've found a keeper.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Twitter: @tristan_nichols