An American in England, Part 3 of 7

Tuesday

Tuesday morning was yet another lazy morning. More attempts were made to work and luckily, this time, I actually started a paper.


Tuesday afternoon was more exciting. Rachel, her mum and I went out to lunch in the attic of an antique shop. The shop was an old four story house. The inside has been converted into a showroom floor for old furniture, creative cutlery and books dating back to the early 1800s (a copy of all of William Shakespeare's works).

After lunch we went to a family friend's of Rachel's for tea. I know this is contradictory to my last post, but Rachel promises my readers that tea does not happen every day. Here we talked about the differences between the Scottish, English and American school systems. By the final year of secondary school English students take only three classes that narrow down their focus and what subjects they will take in university. Weird, but this could be a good idea.

By the time tea ended it was 5p.m. Rachel and I were due for a dinner with a friend I shall refer to as Iz. Rachel and I were dropped off at St. Mary's, a fairly sized church in Hitchin, where we waited for Iz. When Iz arrived, she arrived in style: cigarette in hand, blonde hair flowing and walking with deteremination. The three of us went into a PizzaExpress, the best pizza chain in the United Kingdom. After ordering some tasty dishes, we began to talk about Rachel's school.

Rachel, for all of her secondary school years, has attended PHC. PHC had been founded for Princess Helena, the daughter of Queen Victoria. Princess Helena had been, to put this in kind terms, stupid. So, being a queen, Victoria made a school just for her daughter. The school today is a well recognized school for, as their advertisement says, great girls. I approve at least.

After our conversation about the school, Iz took the pleasure of driving Rachel and I back to her home. Riding with Iz was like being back home, but in a car that would make most Americans give a second look. Iz drives a 1969 manual VW Beetle. The front two seats have seat belts, but the passengers in the back are left defenceless. We sped down the country roads of Harpenden. Iz's quriky character can be defined by the fact that she asked me to light her cigarette for her whilst she was driving. Sadly, I didn't know which end to light.

Not a bad night.