For those of you who don’t know, I grew up in New Zealand where houses dont touch each other and like their personal space, where the beach is never more than an hour away and the water is warm enough to swim, where kings, queens, witches and castles (though there is a small castle nearish Miranda hot pools that sells ice creams and sandwiches) were things of stories and imaginations.
I grew up watching movies like Mary Poppins, Bed knobs and broomsticks, the lion the witch and the wardrobe and reading books by Roald Dahl, Enid Blighton, Phillip Pullman, Tolkien along with many many more.
So upon arriving in England (in Birmingham) for my OE (what we Kiwi’s call our overseas experience) my mind was blown, all these things that were once only in books, movies and tv were suddenly real. Houses are so close together and always attached to another (I have now learnt what all the different ones are called and feel very proud of myself, the first house I lived in over here was a terraced house and now I live in a semi detached house), so close you could run from one roof top to another and on and on (I really want to try this but I haven’t found an easy way up yet). I keep looking for groups of Chimney sweeps dancing and singing on them, then trying to convince myself thats not real… and failing.
One of the first times I was on a bus there were these two middle aged ladies nattering away and my first thought was hee hee hee they sound like they are off Coro st and had to stop myself laughing out loud. The kids sound hilarious too, but its best not to laugh at them while trying to teach them (or say pants)
Seeing beautiful and very English countrysides and now I’m looking for a white rabbit in a waist coat saying I’m late (though this was not helped by being in Oxford on Alice day and seeing someone dressed up as a white rabbit running around saying that with a girl dressed up as Alice following him, then followed by a trail of little girls also dressed up as Alice with their parents following after, was quite a sight).
Wandering the streets of London in the when its dark and damp waiting watching for a large bed with 3 children and a witch to appear at any moment.
Visiting beautiful old buildings, Palaces and Castles where real Kings and Queens lived with princes and princesses, where knights fought and battles where one and lost.
Seeing memorials where gallows once stood where people where hung, places where witches were burnt.
I’m so confused. What is real and what is make believe? I’m not so sure any more.
Has anyone else had that moment of feeling like they have been in a movie or a book?