By David R. Perry
Along with being surrogate parents, and comforting listening ears at times, to students from approximately 16 countries here at The Vines in Headington/Oxford this summer, it’s also been our task to insure that our 40 bed, three story house stays in “proper” running order. We have had the boiler quit, drains back up and flood the floor below, lights burn out at inopportune times, a power outage due to a cable cut by the workers, water coming in the front door from torrential rains (There has only been maybe five days all summer when it didn’t rain sometime during the day), and a momma squirrel raising her young in the attic. Regardless, I think we have them ship-shape and ready for the next semester, plus my wife Vonnie has all the linens sorted and ready to go too. At the same time workers were putting in new bicycle racks, a new wrought iron fence around the entire property, and a new “Rubbish pad” (fenced in area for the trash).
All of the above allows me to make the following observation:
My life-long obsessiveness with anything British is no secret to anyone who has been around me for more than five or six minutes. All toll, counting numerous visits starting at age eleven, I have spent almost three years on this small Island that has brought us, Robin Hood, Shakespeare, castles, kings, queens, exploration, innovation, Empire, double decker busses, Beatles, Herman’s Hermits, bagpipes & kilts, fish & chips, Monty Python, Downton Abbey (where do I stop?), and of course US. For a country that from top to bottom, and east to west, would fit inside Texas 2.8 times, there is an amazing amount of heritage and accomplishment that exists here.
However, all of this, my probably over romanticized view of this Island, would screech to a grinding halt if not for the “guys in the trenches”, the fun guys I get to spend my summer with. These are the electricians, carpenters, boiler and dishwasher repairmen, locksmiths, iron monger, plumbers, painters, rock masons, rubbish inspectors, fence builders, cleaning staff and gardeners. It’s with these guys that the phrase, “Two great countries divided by a common language”, truly comes into play. Not a lot of time, seemingly, has been taken to standardize the terms for tools and building materials between the UK and the US.
Lastly, today I got to work with a real “chimney sweep”. He didn’t have his brooms and cleaning gear though since we were cleaning out rain gutters and not chimneys. He didn’t look anything like Dick Van Dyke, was all of about 24 with tats up both arms and piercings who knows where, but was a cockney accented fun little guy to work with. Thought about asking him if he knew a lady with an umbrella who could fly, but then I thought better.
So, hats off to these “True Brits”, my friends, the guys who let me sit back and have my daydreams of pulling swords out of big rocks, and walking these green hills with the likes of Arthur, Guinevere, and Merlin during the days of Camelot, “whilst they work their arses off.”
PerryScope 