The social life of a world explorer is likely to be overwhelming, especially if you are like me and happen to be graced with less than awesome social skills. I feel offensive every time we are in a pub because as soon as I am asked what I want to drink, I am instantly reminded that I very rarely go to bars and that my chance of ordering a frozen mango margarita at Seymour Arms is literally ZERO percent. I then go through my inner-rolodex...eyes rolling back into my head, inwardly debating between "just order a beer, any beer!" to "idk, something with whiskey?!" mostly dreading the possible situation of asking for something that they are either a. out of b. don't have or c. have never heard of if their lives. By the time I snap back to reality, everyone is usually looking at me and saying, "Well you don't HAVE to get anything..." with a look as though I had made an uncomfortably rude joke.
I only mention this because if you have this problem, the UK isn't the smartest place to go. I am lucky, though, that most times we go to the pub it is because we are eating lunch at Margaret and George's house that is LITERALLY right next door, so I generally just let Jake go play Bar Billiards with "the other blokes" while I sit on the "settee" and watch the "telly" by the fire as Gwyn and Tom run around. Yes, it is nice, but not the most social.
I really had my chance to blossom at bingo last Friday night. "Witham Friary Annual Bingo," to be precise. We were told that people come from ALL OVER the county to play bingo, and we were very excited. The lot of us filed in, and George showed us the ropes (even spotting us some quid for an extra play book) and eyed the prizes to be won. Jake and I were very focused and mostly just stuck to ourselves, chatting with Seona about the prices of bus tickets to Portugal. It was at that moment that the most dreadful thing happened! Seona stood up, on her way to the toilets and said, "Portugal? Her boyfriend is from Portugal, ask her about it!" pointing to a young girl behind us before dashing out of sight.
I froze. I was not prepared for this! I turn around slowly, think real hard and say to the girl, "Cool," and faced forwards again. I knew that it probably came across as super bitchy so I thought real hard again, turned back around and asked, "We saw some really cheap bus tickets to there but before then it wasn't really ever a place I thought of as worth-while." NICE, KELLY. It was like when I took the moment to take a good hard think, I instead decided to come up with the most pompous statement ever. I heard myself and prayed that she wouldn't take it as rudely as it sounded. Luckily, she only asked where the tickets were to. I responded, and while I was now at the point of desperation as to not sound like blue-assed baboon throwing nasty word-poops at the nearest innocent people I stuck with, "Is it nice there?"Behold! The intermission had ended, and bingo was beginning again! This meant that I only received a smile and nod from my new friend and we were back to an activity that I AM good at- staring at numbers looking confused.
It seems that the only folk that I am appropriately able to socialize with are perhaps the wild boar that are currently inhabiting the woods (and sometimes fields, and sometimes gardens) of Witham Friary. Rumor has it that the Duke of Somerset (our county...I say "our" like I live here...) is aware of the boar, which by the way are NOT normal for this area, and is just "keeping an eye on them." There is a lot of fuss about them because, as previously stated, their appearances are not normal especially for such a large group. We had seen them run past the house last week and Jake and I followed them to find that there were THIRTEEN of these beasts. Also, apparently yesterday, one of the neighbors was CHARGED BY ONE in his garden in the early morning! That is not to say that I am only able to make friends with wild creatures that have tusks, but mostly to say that I, like the wild boar in question, am merely just acting like myself and as a result it makes others slightly confused and a bit offended (and perhaps occasionally fearful). So I guess you could say that I am a bit boary. Perhaps boarish. Or even better, boaresque.