Tuesday, November 20, 2007

I Am A London Twat

Despite my country upbringing, I don't seem to be adjusting very well to this 'living in Cornwall' lark.

The first clue was when I pitched up at Costa Coffee yesterday morning at eight on the dot (I was hoping it might open at seven, but this proved unfounded) expecting to find it teeming with Falmouth's business and media elite ordering extra-shot lattes to go. Instead, I found it empty save for one barista sitting peacefully drinking hot chocolate and reading the paper.

And then this morning, as I was beetling back out of town in my fancy city coat, with my laptop bag on my back and skinny latte in hand, I found myself in the midst of the farmers' market, where I promptly demonstrated a total inability to a) correctly identify a goose's egg*, b) correctly identify any sort of fish at all, not even a cod, or c) express any kind of intelligent opinion whatsoever on the bacterial culture inside a lamb's liver.

Mr BC is going away for a couple of days on Thursday. I'm not sure I can cope on my own. I'll probably embarrass myself by accidentally trying to organise a flashmob outside Woolworths, or asking which zone Perranarworthal is in.

I really hope my London twatness will go away soon.


* Apparently it was actually a duck's egg, doh.

29 comments:

Billy said...

When in markets I don't say much in case I say something stupid.

I like lattes though.

Geoff said...

Is Falmouth's cider & mead house still there?

It made my friend who never gets sick very sick indeed.

Annie said...

Aaah... it is pleasing to think of Patroclus in her country idyll, purchasing a skinny latte from a relaxed barista instead of fighting through hordes of angry,violent caffeine-addicted commuters like it is in Laaahndon...

devolutionary said...

Look in the mirror before you leave the house and say: "I WAS a London twat" ten times. Might work.

Alternatively, wait a couple of months. It will pass.

Occasional Poster of Comments said...

Ooh, I just thought of a neologism:

L·undone

adj.

To feel Lundone: a state of discombobulation experienced by former residents of England's capital city upon attempting to adjust to a less metropolitan way of life.

Or not.


Anyway, welcome to Falmouth :) I'm sure you'll get used to it dreckly.

Valerie said...

I'd blame Falmouth. I mean, there you are, just under the chin of Old Man England -- where the drool collects, I must remind you -- it's no wonder that baristas lean back in their chairs and farmers expect you to recognize their velociraptor ova. Why, everything's all topsy turvy there...

Then again I am in California, so I really, really shouldn't talk ;-)

Never you mind. From all Google Earth can tell me, it is a lovely place indeed, even if everyone is hanging off the underside of some old man's chin. Better than being in Australia where you have to staple your shoes to the floor.

Tim Footman said...

Count yourself lucky. At least you can speak the language. And nobody mistakes you for a sex tourist, or Engliah teacher, or both.

Lettuce Hater said...

been there

you'll be fine in a few months

oh, and remember not to laugh at people who complain about a 25-minute commute and/or traffic congestion

provincial pain is just as real

and give it a year and when you revisit london, you'll be jittery and breaking out in a sweat as you count the minutes until you head back to paddigton to 'go home'

an ex-london now fully reoriented twat

:-)

miss-cellany said...

Welcome to Kernow. As OPC says - you'll get used to it - dreckly...

If you feel the urge for a bit of city-ness, there's always Truro (!?) sometimes on Saturdays you actually have to stand up on the train (zone 3).

Best way I found to adapt was 1)wear smart coat with wellies. 2)carry laptop in granny trolley. You might spot me - looking like a twat.

LC said...

Has anybody tried to marry you to their prize bull yet?

DavetheF said...

I once had a holiday \n St Agnes, on the north coast of Cornwall, which has an air of secret villainy and gloomy poets about it. And v beautiful. But when visiting the Riviera bit it seemed a bit SUV and two Jags.

Tabby Rabbit said...

Can you say Perranarworthal? (my casue for concern stems from the fact that the end bit is like 'Carl')

llewtrah said...

It takes me a day to wind down from town mode to country mode. I can do it now, but after too long of town living I was at a loose end in the countryside - no shops, no entertainment etc. These days I rather like to escape from it all and have peace so I can read or just walk.

cello said...

You mean Mr BC has already set you loose to terrorise the good citizens of Falmouth? I assumed you'd have to stay in quarantine for about a month.

Maybe he can make you a few pasties and pop them in the freezer for when he has to be away...

rivergirlie said...

oh - it'll go all right. i used to be all brixton and ica-ish. now i have straw in my hair and when i do go up to the big city i'm inappropriately cheery with bus drivers and the like. i'm SUCH a hick - a bit like granny from the beverly hillbillies (god - i LOVED that show!)

patroclus said...

Ooh, blimey, so many comments! Sorry to seem neglectful, I'm on serious internet rationing at the moment until the new house gets broadband on December 5th (not that I'm counting the days)...rest assured I'm not ignoring you all!

However, Geoff: I am reliably assured that the cider and mead house is sadly (or possibly thankfully) no more. Did you and your friend ever visit The Pirate? I gather it had the same sort of effect on people.

Also: it turns out that Costa does open at 7am after all. I'm such a liar.

Delirium said...

Being only one generation from a small island on the west coast of Scotland, growing up in Aberdeen and ending up deep doon sooth I can so sympathise!

When I visit my grandmother (who still lives on said island) the locals who have known me since I was a wee girl take every opportunity to take the piss out of my so called "city ways" and my ever evolving accent.

Still must admit I love being there though I do miss my grande latte.

WV: Ceexx - the sound of cats mating

Spinsterella said...

I quite fancy getting a job in Costa cofee in Falmouth. Sounds pretty chilled and you probably get a free apron to wear too...

Paul Rayson said...

I hate those markets. Everything should be clearly labelled with name, usage instructions and best before. Such snobbery! I don't sneer at country folk for confusing generic MP3 players with iPods so fair's fair. Apples, oranges — they're all spherical.

d. said...

When I read posts like this from you P, I always get a really vivid mental storyboard of your 'beetling' and it makes me smile - good stuff.
That city sheen rubs off after a while and becomes a dulled but useful undercoat of street-smarts to be buffed up on trips to the big smoke, so don't worry. As for farmers' markets, you'll grow to love them. Just asking what's good is usually the best way to buy anything (especially fish and seasonal veg) as you'll generally get an honest answer rather than the stock-shifting banter you might receive in a city market. Then it's just a question of dusting off those recipe books and cooking weapons and messing about in a hot kitchen while it's chilly out. Is there a spice stall? Filling a rack with loose herbs and spices from those markets is always good and it's about time to start mulling red wine and cider in any case. Have fun - it's definitely shuffling to the pub with a cold red nose season and that's the only place to bump into other confused people when things get wintry. Or there's always Costa :)

wyndham said...

Don't worry you will be assimilated. And before long you will look like:

http://cache.viewimages.com/xc/3375117.jpg?v=1&c=ViewImages&k=2&d=89B856506CE546547254683B263C5C35A55A1E4F32AD3138

Lorna said...

You'll know the goose egg when you see it: it's the colossal one that will bring tears of sympathy to your eyes. Poor geese: it's no wonder they're bad tempered little sods.

Geoff said...

I don't think we visited The Pirate. But my friend was as sick as a parrot.

Boz said...

An excuse for tone of the best lines of dialogue ever written for city folk in the country:

"What these people really wanted was some milk."
"Milk?"
"Yar."
"Do we have any?"
"Not really."
"Can we get some faxed?"

Arabella said...

You'll get the hang of it. Just be sure to let us know when you invest in your first tweed cape.

Spinsterella said...

God, it's been a while since the last post, hasn't it?

Oh fuck - P has been piked by pitchfork weilding yokels.

I knew this would happen! Fucking boggers!




oh. she's not got the internets yet.

Smat said...

she was still in one piece yesterday, so they haven't got her yet.....

patroclus said...

It's just the internets - they aren't being installed till Wednesday afternoon...

Tim Footman said...

Yes, but when is the village magic man, Old Waldo, coming to give you the power of electrickle? And how many squirrel pelts will he charge you?