Returning to your homeland is a weird experience at any time of year. When it’s been the coldest winter in *insert latest number* of years, you’re back because your dad is going to give your mum his kidney, and you live in Trowbridge, it becomes even stranger.
One of the oddest things about being home is that things that used to be totally normal now seem completely alien. You have become a foreigner, and it takes you a while to remember which social nuance is appropriate in which situation.
Naturally, in order to remember you should engage in a ritual involving drinking so much that you forget, and go to The Pub.
On the way to said pub after you’ve looked in your wallet to find a useless collection of coins from different currencies you realise you need to get out some money. Living in a convenient kind of country the cash machine is right there when this thought crosses your mind.
There is a man in front of you using the cash machine as you arrive. You wait the sum of approximately two minutes for him to finish his transaction.
As you wait, you watch the man look more and more uncomfortable. He awkwardly adjusts his coat, nervously touches his hair. After he’s finished he turns round, steps back in a bumbling sort of way, and says “sorry about that, after you” gesturing to the machine. You are confused.
Firstly, “Sorry about that”- how can he possibly be apologising for something that he began doing before you’d even turned up, you waited 2 minutes for (we are talking maximums here) and was something he quite clearly needed and had every right to do.
Secondly, “After you” – you are quite clearly using the machine after him, is he about to queue up after you to use it again because he’s too mortified to check his balance in your presence because it might take another minute?
One can only imagine that he assumes you have somewhere very important to be, but you are in Trowbridge town centre on a Thursday night the only place you could possibly be going would be The Pub. Ah. That must be it.
Later, heading away from The Bar in The Pub, and a man walks past carrying two pints of beer. There is a large amount of room around you, you are both able to walk past each other perfectly comfortably; he doesn’t spill the beer, you make your way to the toilet, everybody wins. But no, being English, ample personal space around you is simply not enough. “Give me more ample space!” he cries, whilst he does that “after you” kind of face and you think you’re probably expected to return with a similar “after you” kind of face and then you are both supposed to engage in a little “after you dance” while one of you steps forward and then the other moves at the same time and it all becomes terribly embarrassing and everybody goes a bit red before eventually one of you moves a millisecond before the other and wins the game to be able to move and extrapolate themselves from this mortifying social game. Of course, you’ve forgotten all these little rules/are refusing to engage in them and he does the “after you” face and you barge past him (politely walk ahead with an apologetic grin – you haven’t really forgotten) on your way to the loo.
The last peculiar thing about being in The Pub, is that you are surrounded by people that you recognise yet cannot place. You have no idea whether you actually know them or just think you know them because you have been coming to The Pub ever since you were old enough to sneak in and get someone else to get you a drink without being chucked out (fifteen). Still, everyone does an amazingly good job of avoiding eye contact, the quick glance, look away and become incredibly interested in the paint on the wall, have been perfected.
Most friends are to be hugged if you’ve not seen them in a year and a half but generally a nod of the head is quite enough thank you very much. Particularly evasive, is the girl who you went to school with, know everyone she knows, yet you never really speak. You might think that perhaps a small acknowledgement of the other’s presence might be socially required. Apparently not. It appears that it is totally normal to sit there for an entire evening opposite someone, whilst you have conversations around each other, yet never acknowledge that the other exists. It’s like you are exes who have fallen out and still share the same friendship group, except there is absolutely no emotion or feeling involved and you have never actually been friends.
Oh well, at least you don’t have to bother with the “what’ve you been up to?” conversation. That’s a whole other social minefield.
Thoughts from a Latin Land 