My American accent

Had the experience of someone not understanding me: We'd been to a cafe near the train station almost every day, and they have a really good mocha, but on my third visit, it was a different cashier. When I ordered a "large mocha to go," he looked at me like I had just spoken Swahili. I tried again, more slowly: A large cafe mocha for take away. Got it that time. I can't help it if I pronounce all my vowels. But the fourth day I went in, it was the same cashier, and he recognized us as, I can only assume, The Americans.

We hung out at the cafe yesterday waiting for Arthur to arrive by bus from Heathrow. The airport is very close to Shepperton, but I knew there was no way I could handle driving to the airport. Waaay too scary. So I looked up buses, found a direct one to Shepperton, and told Arthur. But as we were waiting for him, I realized this is not a pleasant, air-conditioned, airport transfer-type bus, but rather a regular city bus. It took the poor man a full hour, stopping through every village between the airport and here. Still, it was only 3 pounds! We managed to be at the right stop at the right time waiting for him.

For a late lunch, or early dinner, before he could collapse from jet lag, I dragged him to another local pub, definitely more for the locals than the pretty one on the Thames. Here, my American accent got me lots of help and advice. I tried my first Guinness, and we were served free "bar snacks" of greasy sausages and fried chicken.

Next item on our list (which Arthur and I are more excited about than the kids) is a curry house (British for Indian restaurant?). There are a couple good ones here in Shepperton.

The weather has been soooo lovely. We are so lucky!