About Being English

Chips by the seaside. Wind off the sea. Old houses, pubs and churches. For all the countries I've travelled in, all the different cultures I've sampled, today was a chance to experience being English again!

We travelled to Westgate in Kent, through grey clouds which lifted to reveal a sky that somehow seemed higher than usual - framing the coastline. It could hardly be described as a beautiful day, yet somehow the bleakness of it made it feel all the more English. Today was something of a homecoming: my mother had been born in her grandparents' house just a few miles away and had lived her childhood in this town. I too had often visited here as a child, getting ice-cream all over my face and swimming in the sea with my brother.

We walked down the road and the wind kept our hair dancing around our heads. Several hardened seaside dwellers were out walking their dogs. In summer the town is busy with people, barefoot children padding along the waterfront, families sitting on the beach, little shops selling beachballs. Today, however, we escaped from the cold by entering one of the few cafes that is open all year round, where we ordered a bucket of chips and doused them in salt and vinegar.

Somehow the mundane simplicity of the day, coupled with the untamed wildness of the wind and sea, captured the essence of Englishness. Here my sister lies buried, here past generations of my family were born and lived, and here for a day I was able to remember my roots ... of being English.

Friends

Gezim. The moment I saw him again after maybe 2 years, and we both broke into big smiles. We ordered a coffee and sat down together in the cafe, and the passage of time melted away. He's got married since I last saw him, and other changes have taken place, but the pleasure of sitting and chatting made me feel relaxed and happy. So much to talk about, and 4 hours weren't enough. It helped me realise that friends that you can relax with are so important.

And Robert. I met him first over 3 years ago, as I travelled from Montenegro to Albania, meeting him in Shkodra. We made instant friends, and have visited each other several times again since then, in Albania and Macedonia. And now England. Gathering at an old-fashioned pub in an old-fashioned village in the Kent countryside, Robert and his parents, together with me and my parents, sat down to a meal by the log fire. And we nattered. A lot. Our parents happily engaged in conversation, having been friends longer than Robert and I, whilst we also caught up on life and events, like his wedding engagement. And then the time was over far too quickly and we went our own ways, hoping to meet up again soon in some country or another...

Family

Sunday last week, some 14 of us from the Symondson clan gathered together for a pre-Christmas party. I see some of these relatives only once a year, and the few hours together never seems long enough to have a meaningful conversation with everyone. But good food, good surroundings and good company made for an enjoyable time. How time passes: the oldest of my second cousins is now 25 - I remember when most of them were born...

#5

Standing at the bus stop, waiting for a #5 bus is a regular occurrence, but today it was different - I was feeling excited. The bus journey took the same route, but today was not usual; I was looking ahead to being in another 2 countries this day, and suddenly the mundane things were transformed.

Changing buses, some 40 minutes later I was at the border, with snow coming down. Kosovo. Arriving in Pristina I took a local bus as close to the airport as I could get and then started walking. There I was with back-pack and guitar, walking through the cold and snow, cars sliding slowly passed me, faces bemused looking out at me: a foreigner on foot, trudging along. About two thirds of the way there a car stopped for me and the driver offered me a lift.

And then a plane ride later and I was thrust into the world of England before Christmas. Decorations, fancy shops, lots of people moving with intent to some destination, dressed in dark coloured clothes and wearing scarves, looking like they've walked out of some TV series. And then I see my dad, faithfully waiting by the 23 year old red Audi 80, smiling as he sees me, and we drive to Bromley, catching up on news. My mum's still-pretty face greets us at the door, and I am welcomed into the warmth...

Cafe Night!

OK, I've been slow at updating my blog. Often when I have the most to write about (because I am busy), I have the least time to write it!

Last Thursday we had a cafe night with students; we'd been doing questionnaires recently and everyone who said they wanted to get involved with something we were doing, we invited. None of them came!!! However, others came and we had in total (including people from church and foreign guests) over 20 people.

Then on Tuesday at cell group one of those girls came along, and brought a friend. One of my friends at cell group told how she had grown up through difficulties and been depressed and even tried to kill herself. She had later on ended up at a Christian thing, and found herself crying because she realised how dirty she was before God, and she wanted His forgiveness. After, another girl came and offered to pray for her, and God said something to her, through this girl, which showed His love for her - how He wanted to stroke her hair to comfort her - something that was really meaningful to her, but which no-one else knew.

God used this story to reveal to the new people how much God loves them. Great!