It's been spreading like wildfire all over Long Island. Everyone's posting witty comments about it on Facebook, and if they're not reading it, they've definitely heard of it. At my book club meeting last night, more people than have ever darkened the door of Book Club before turned up to discuss it: The Book. Fifty Shades of Grey.
This book is a viral phenomenon. According to the New York Times, it's shot to the top of the bestseller list, aided by downloads on Kindles. Because this is a book you don't necessarily want to be caught reading in public too obviously. It is erotica; or, as the NY Times puts it (whisper): 'Mommy Porn'. Upper East Side women are devouring it, mothers are discussing it at school gates, teachers are debating it in school corridors (or so said one of my friends, a teacher herself).
I hadn't heard of the book when it was suggested back at book club a month ago. All I knew was that it was 'raunchy' and involved some bondage. But I had no expectations when I downloaded my copy (more because I was trying out my new Kindle rather than because of the 'Mommy Porn' element).
I know different now. Chat shows all over America are getting all het up about why intelligent, educated women are obsessing a book that involves S&M style sex. Our little corner of the world has gone crazy over Fifty Shades - and I bet you anything it will start taking off in the UK soon. (Interestingly, the author, E.L. James, is British, although she sets her novels in Seattle. Some American friends told me that they had to 'look up' some of the British expressions she uses in the book, although I can't say I noticed.)
So - the burning question - is it any good? Reader, I could not put it down (and that's a trilogy of books, not just one). That's not to say it's the best-written book ever - it's not. The writing is pretty pedestrian (some of it reads like the worst kind of Mills and Boon romance), it's a bit repetitive and there are some preposterous plot elements. But the core story had me fascinated. It's the story of a naive English Lit. student, Anastasia, who goes to interview a 27 year old self-made billionaire called Christian Grey. (Think Mark Zuckerberg, if he was gorgeous). They are attracted to each other, but it's not that simple: he's into seriously kinky sex and wants her to become his 'submissive'; in other words, he refuses to have a normal relationship. She hasn't ever had a boyfriend before, so isn't quite sure what to think.
There's an awful lot of very explicit sex in the book, but there's a plot too - the story really turns on who will submit to whom. Will she become his sex slave, or will he compromise and have a more regular ("vanilla") relationship with her? Along the way, he turns out to be emotionally damaged (aren't all the best romantic heroes? But this one is particularly dark), and she turns out to be stronger than you originally thought.There's a predatory older woman (dubbed "Mrs. Robinson"), a deranged ex-mistress and a psycho boss to contend with too.
I guess every generation has to have its 'book' to whisper about. I remember my Mum and her friends being fascinated by Jilly Cooper's Riders, back in the 80s; it was considered seriously raunchy. Women like reading about sex - this isn't new (although some of the commentaries about this book on US TV would have you think so). However, I think the reason this one is so popular is not so much the 'soft porn' element, but that it's pure escapism. It's romance; it's fantasy; it's about a wealthy, seriously sexy hero who it's fine to fancy on the pages of a book (although in real life, you'd probably run a mile from his control freakery and stalker-ish tendencies). And it's also very modern - the lovers banter via emails and Blackberries, he gives her a Macbook laptop and makes iPod playlists for her to tell her how he feels. (Heathcliff and Mr Rochester never had that at their disposal, now did they?).
While a few people at my book club hated it, the rest were raving about it in a way I haven't seen people behave about a book since I was at school in the 80s, and we were all reading Flowers in the Attic. Meanwhile, reportedly the book has been snapped up by a major US publisher (Vintage Books) and may well become a film. Fifty Shades may be a craze, but it's not one that's going to go away.
Thursday, 15 March 2012
Monday, 12 March 2012
Old School Tie
"Do you think I should wear my old school tie?" asked The Doctor, proferring a rather ancient looking black and pink affair that has sat, unworn, in his wardrobe ever since I've known him.
"Well, " I replied. "If you're ever going to wear it, I guess tonight should be the night."
We were going to an alumni dinner in a New York dining club, organised by his school (one of London's best known). The headmaster flies out once a year for this occasion, and New York-based ex pupils attend. Somehow we'd received an invitation, and although it's not normally the kind of occasion we'd jump at the chance of going to, we were intrigued - what would it be like? Who would be there? What would the club be like?
The answer is, it was all very British. The club, lined with wood panelling, manned by dignified Indian waiters and serving colonially strong cocktails (the Martini I ordered kept me going all night), was very like something you might find in London. The guests (mainly older than us and almost all 'considerably richer') could have stepped straight out of a Hampstead or Islington dinner party. It became clear that one of the main purposes of the occasion was to get people to dig into their pockets and donate to the school; something we're not really in a position to do. It did feel a bit like we were stepping into a different world.
That's not to say it wasn't enjoyable. One thing that definitely unites the Brits in America, whatever generation, is Democratic politics. Everyone I spoke to was fervently hoping Obama gets back in, and marvelling at how people could actually vote for the likes of Rick Santorum. (It's funny to think that some of these people are probably ardent Tories back home - it makes you realise just how much further to the right America is.) We swapped stories about children, about schooling, the differences between education in the UK and US. It was basically an expat get-together, with fillet steak and an after-dinner speaker. We also heard a little about the school, which, though ruinously expensive, admittedly sounds fantastic (although whether either of our children will ever go there is another matter).
Then we got back on the train and headed back to suburban Long Island, back to the world of backyard BBQs, soccer practice and birthday parties, where our children get on the yellow school bus each day and we don't (yet) have to worry about entrance exams, league tables and sports halls. Somehow the occasion made me feel both very British, and yet not. Excited about our visit to London in just a few weeks now, I nevertheless wonder how we're going to slot back into English society. How much has our outlook on the world changed since living in America? Or are we going to fit right back in to middle class British life without looking back.
"Well, " I replied. "If you're ever going to wear it, I guess tonight should be the night."
We were going to an alumni dinner in a New York dining club, organised by his school (one of London's best known). The headmaster flies out once a year for this occasion, and New York-based ex pupils attend. Somehow we'd received an invitation, and although it's not normally the kind of occasion we'd jump at the chance of going to, we were intrigued - what would it be like? Who would be there? What would the club be like?
The answer is, it was all very British. The club, lined with wood panelling, manned by dignified Indian waiters and serving colonially strong cocktails (the Martini I ordered kept me going all night), was very like something you might find in London. The guests (mainly older than us and almost all 'considerably richer') could have stepped straight out of a Hampstead or Islington dinner party. It became clear that one of the main purposes of the occasion was to get people to dig into their pockets and donate to the school; something we're not really in a position to do. It did feel a bit like we were stepping into a different world.
That's not to say it wasn't enjoyable. One thing that definitely unites the Brits in America, whatever generation, is Democratic politics. Everyone I spoke to was fervently hoping Obama gets back in, and marvelling at how people could actually vote for the likes of Rick Santorum. (It's funny to think that some of these people are probably ardent Tories back home - it makes you realise just how much further to the right America is.) We swapped stories about children, about schooling, the differences between education in the UK and US. It was basically an expat get-together, with fillet steak and an after-dinner speaker. We also heard a little about the school, which, though ruinously expensive, admittedly sounds fantastic (although whether either of our children will ever go there is another matter).
Then we got back on the train and headed back to suburban Long Island, back to the world of backyard BBQs, soccer practice and birthday parties, where our children get on the yellow school bus each day and we don't (yet) have to worry about entrance exams, league tables and sports halls. Somehow the occasion made me feel both very British, and yet not. Excited about our visit to London in just a few weeks now, I nevertheless wonder how we're going to slot back into English society. How much has our outlook on the world changed since living in America? Or are we going to fit right back in to middle class British life without looking back.
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Leap Day treat: The Book of Mormon
When The Doctor tried to book tickets for the Book of Mormon on Broadway as my Christmas present, he found the show was pretty well sold out for the forseeable future. But then, amazingly, one day popped up as having spare seats- February 29th. Our guess is that the original calendar for the show hadn't taken into account the Leap Year, so this date suddenly became available. The tickets were still outrageously expensive, but then, this is the hottest show on Broadway - and I got to see it yesterday as a Leap Day treat.
I've wanted to see the show ever since I read an amazingly good review in the New York Times last year. In fact, I wanted to see it anyway - I love anything by South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone, and particularly loved their take on musicals in the film South Park: Bigger Longer and Uncut. They can be absolutely shocking, but I have huge admiration for their black, irreverent humour and the way they are not afraid to skewer any sacred cows.
The production did not disappoint. The story of two naive Mormon missionaries who are sent to Uganda, it is a glorious pisstake not only of Mormonism (and let's face it, we urgently need this when Mitt Romney, a Mormon, could become the next President of the USA) but of all religion, and, like quite a lot of Parker and Stone's other stuff, also neatly satirizes how America sees the world. But it's also a fabulous show - it's got great song and dance numbers, hilariously funny characters, and even a (sort of) moral. And, if you're a fan or otherwise of musical theatre, you'll appreciate in particular how the songs reference a number of well-known musicals, including The Lion King and Les Miserables.
This is very edgy, foul-mouthed comedy and whether or not you'd get away with putting this show on anywhere outside New York (or perhaps California) I don't know. I'm sure swathes of Middle America would hate it, but the Manhattan audience absolutely loved it - and the fact that tickets are so hard to come by says it all. I hear it's coming to London soon, so UK readers, watch out for a West End production. Don't go and see it if you're a) a Mormon, b) easily shocked or c) would not like a song whose main lyrics translate as 'F*** God. Do go and see if you a) like black, black humor b) love South Park, and c) have ever been to Orlando.
I've wanted to see the show ever since I read an amazingly good review in the New York Times last year. In fact, I wanted to see it anyway - I love anything by South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone, and particularly loved their take on musicals in the film South Park: Bigger Longer and Uncut. They can be absolutely shocking, but I have huge admiration for their black, irreverent humour and the way they are not afraid to skewer any sacred cows.
The production did not disappoint. The story of two naive Mormon missionaries who are sent to Uganda, it is a glorious pisstake not only of Mormonism (and let's face it, we urgently need this when Mitt Romney, a Mormon, could become the next President of the USA) but of all religion, and, like quite a lot of Parker and Stone's other stuff, also neatly satirizes how America sees the world. But it's also a fabulous show - it's got great song and dance numbers, hilariously funny characters, and even a (sort of) moral. And, if you're a fan or otherwise of musical theatre, you'll appreciate in particular how the songs reference a number of well-known musicals, including The Lion King and Les Miserables.
This is very edgy, foul-mouthed comedy and whether or not you'd get away with putting this show on anywhere outside New York (or perhaps California) I don't know. I'm sure swathes of Middle America would hate it, but the Manhattan audience absolutely loved it - and the fact that tickets are so hard to come by says it all. I hear it's coming to London soon, so UK readers, watch out for a West End production. Don't go and see it if you're a) a Mormon, b) easily shocked or c) would not like a song whose main lyrics translate as 'F*** God. Do go and see if you a) like black, black humor b) love South Park, and c) have ever been to Orlando.
Wednesday, 29 February 2012
The Mild Winter
Daffodils are out on Long Island, crocuses and snowdrops are blooming, and the ponds are resolutely un-frozen. In the discount aisle today at the local supermarket: snow shovels, ice melt, kids' hats and gloves. (I should probably be snapping up these items ahead of next winter, but I guess retailers know this isn't the way consumer minds work).
Whereas this time last year we were still surrounded by several feet of snow, this year we've escaped thus far with just a few days of really cold weather (and that's cold by NY standards, so minus 9 celsius or so), one snowstorm, and a few sleety days. The New York Times weather page, desperate for some interesting news to report, has taken to new descriptions such as 'nuisance snow' for any sign of precipitation.
Local people say it's the mildest winter they can recall. There are various predictions; it'll mean a boring, unspectacular spring; a cool summer; the mosquitoes will be worse than ever this summer; oh no, they'll be better because they won't have had the chance to breed under all that melted snow. (Mention global warming and people look uncomfortable; most Americans in this area aren't climate change deniers, but they probably know they're not doing very much about it all.)
In many ways we haven't minded at all. The Doctor embarked on a full-on exercise regime in January, running or cycling every morning before breakfast, and I've carried on running since November, slowly upping my distances and stamina (I'm now up to an eight mile run around the peninsula). The lack of snow and ice has meant we can do this unimpeded, and the cool, sunny temperatures are perfect for outdoor exercise.
But the lack of snow has been a little sad for the boys. Their sleds sit in the garage, unused except for one snowy Saturday; we haven't been able to sled on the big hills at the golf course, like last year. They've had a few more ice skating lessons at the local indoor rink, but when we went skating last weekend at an outdoor rink in a park, the ice was slushy, wet and pretty unpleasant to skate on. Still, they've been able to carry on riding their bikes, and playing football in the garden; last year, that was out of the question until mid-March. (I'm just glad I didn't buy them new snowboots this year, letting them squeeze into last year's despite being half a size too small).
Unless something drastic happens in the next month, real Long Island winter will never really have happened. We'll be in the UK for most of April; when we come back, summertime will be just around the corner. So come on winter, what are you hiding? Are we going to be get a last minute blast that will kill off all the budding blossom? Or is this it; The Mild Winter?
Whereas this time last year we were still surrounded by several feet of snow, this year we've escaped thus far with just a few days of really cold weather (and that's cold by NY standards, so minus 9 celsius or so), one snowstorm, and a few sleety days. The New York Times weather page, desperate for some interesting news to report, has taken to new descriptions such as 'nuisance snow' for any sign of precipitation.
Local people say it's the mildest winter they can recall. There are various predictions; it'll mean a boring, unspectacular spring; a cool summer; the mosquitoes will be worse than ever this summer; oh no, they'll be better because they won't have had the chance to breed under all that melted snow. (Mention global warming and people look uncomfortable; most Americans in this area aren't climate change deniers, but they probably know they're not doing very much about it all.)
In many ways we haven't minded at all. The Doctor embarked on a full-on exercise regime in January, running or cycling every morning before breakfast, and I've carried on running since November, slowly upping my distances and stamina (I'm now up to an eight mile run around the peninsula). The lack of snow and ice has meant we can do this unimpeded, and the cool, sunny temperatures are perfect for outdoor exercise.
But the lack of snow has been a little sad for the boys. Their sleds sit in the garage, unused except for one snowy Saturday; we haven't been able to sled on the big hills at the golf course, like last year. They've had a few more ice skating lessons at the local indoor rink, but when we went skating last weekend at an outdoor rink in a park, the ice was slushy, wet and pretty unpleasant to skate on. Still, they've been able to carry on riding their bikes, and playing football in the garden; last year, that was out of the question until mid-March. (I'm just glad I didn't buy them new snowboots this year, letting them squeeze into last year's despite being half a size too small).
Unless something drastic happens in the next month, real Long Island winter will never really have happened. We'll be in the UK for most of April; when we come back, summertime will be just around the corner. So come on winter, what are you hiding? Are we going to be get a last minute blast that will kill off all the budding blossom? Or is this it; The Mild Winter?
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
American history lesson
Littleboy 2 decided to fill me in on Abraham Lincoln this morning as I was putting on his shoes. (It was Presidents' Day yesterday, an annual holiday marking the birthdays of Lincoln and George Washington, and the start of 'Presidents' Week', half term by any other name).
"Abraham Lincoln grew up in a log cabin without ANY electricity," he informed me. "But then he moved to the White House, and he had everything he wanted."
I thought about pointing out that he still wouldn't have had electricity in the White House. But I didn't want to spoil his story, which I guess is a sort of kids' nutshell version of the American dream - very apt.
"And," he continued, "He got shot."
"Yes," I said, solemnly, as Littleboy 1 piped up: "Just like Martin Luther King!" (Oh Lord. I can see a conversation coming on about why quite so many great American leaders were assassinated).
"He got shot because he wanted everyone to be check," he said. "My teacher told me."
"Check? What does that mean?"
His determined little blue eyes cloud with confusion. "I don't know".
"Oh," I say, (making mental note to ask the teacher). "Well, I don't know either. I thought it was because he was against slavery."
I am always having these moments. Better go and read up about Abraham Lincoln. Any ideas about 'check'? ......
"Abraham Lincoln grew up in a log cabin without ANY electricity," he informed me. "But then he moved to the White House, and he had everything he wanted."
I thought about pointing out that he still wouldn't have had electricity in the White House. But I didn't want to spoil his story, which I guess is a sort of kids' nutshell version of the American dream - very apt.
"And," he continued, "He got shot."
"Yes," I said, solemnly, as Littleboy 1 piped up: "Just like Martin Luther King!" (Oh Lord. I can see a conversation coming on about why quite so many great American leaders were assassinated).
"He got shot because he wanted everyone to be check," he said. "My teacher told me."
"Check? What does that mean?"
His determined little blue eyes cloud with confusion. "I don't know".
"Oh," I say, (making mental note to ask the teacher). "Well, I don't know either. I thought it was because he was against slavery."
I am always having these moments. Better go and read up about Abraham Lincoln. Any ideas about 'check'? ......
Saturday, 11 February 2012
Medics and Music
Littleboy 1 made his second trip to an American ER this week, almost a year to date since the first one.
This time he managed to gash the top of his head, running under a slide in the school playground. ("We were playing Angry Birds, and I was the piggy," was his explanation).
Unlike before, I took him this time, and made the following observations about an American ER.
1. There is no-one that looks like George Clooney, or even Noah Wyle - instead, the doctors seemed about 18 years old and looked more like spotty college students.
2. No-one ran about demanding CBC and Chem7, or even asking for a 'psych consult'.
3. The staff were chatting about their lunch or the Super Bowl, rather than rowing about the patients or their love lives.
4. There really is no difference between the pediatric ER in the UK and US, other than the fact you have more forms to fill out and a nice $100 'co-pay' to be coughed up there and then.
Anyway, Littleboy 1 was once again stoical about it all, only slightly losing it when the doctor explained that he would have a staple put in his head. On first hearing this, I had confidently told him, "it's not like a stapler you use for paper, darling," (the boys are obsessed with stapling and are always nicking mine) only for the doctor to approach carrying what looked like, er, a stapler. Littleboy 1's chain started to wobble (and frankly I don't blame him), but it was soon all over and he now sports a shiny metal staple looking remarkably similar to a paper staple, under his hair. This appendage has clearly gained him something approaching infamy at school - apparently, several of his friends actually wrote about his staple in their journals yesterday.
Anyway, perhaps the most bizarre thing about the whole episode occurred when we came home from the ER. I asked him if he wanted to watch TV as a treat until his brother got home from school. He opted instead for playing the piano - manically, for about half an hour, and with intense brio.
Regular readers may remember that the boys started piano lessons in September, and Littleboy 1's first one in particular was disastrous, as he banged on the piano, misbehaved and refused to do anything the teacher asked. Well, those of you mulling the idea of starting your child on an instrument, do not let this put you off. About six weeks into his course of lessons, something miraculous occurred. Littleboy 1 decided he LOVED the piano. He began practising all the time, unprompted, improved very quickly and was soon racing through his first piano book. He performed brilliantly at the music school recital in December, and his teacher now says he is one of her most promising pupils. It was completely unpredicted, as we had thought Littleboy 2 would be the more musical one (he's doing fine, but as you would expect) - just goes to show you never can tell.
Even knowing that, I was still fairly astonished that after a session in the ER, all he wanted to do was practice the piano. Then I remembered the time that his grandfather - himself a very talented pianist - had accidentally swallowed a wasp in a glass of cider (yes, really.) Refusing all offers of being driven to hospital, his reaction was to drink more cider, then sit down and manically play the piano.....
Maybe it runs in the family.
This time he managed to gash the top of his head, running under a slide in the school playground. ("We were playing Angry Birds, and I was the piggy," was his explanation).
Unlike before, I took him this time, and made the following observations about an American ER.
1. There is no-one that looks like George Clooney, or even Noah Wyle - instead, the doctors seemed about 18 years old and looked more like spotty college students.
2. No-one ran about demanding CBC and Chem7, or even asking for a 'psych consult'.
3. The staff were chatting about their lunch or the Super Bowl, rather than rowing about the patients or their love lives.
4. There really is no difference between the pediatric ER in the UK and US, other than the fact you have more forms to fill out and a nice $100 'co-pay' to be coughed up there and then.
Anyway, Littleboy 1 was once again stoical about it all, only slightly losing it when the doctor explained that he would have a staple put in his head. On first hearing this, I had confidently told him, "it's not like a stapler you use for paper, darling," (the boys are obsessed with stapling and are always nicking mine) only for the doctor to approach carrying what looked like, er, a stapler. Littleboy 1's chain started to wobble (and frankly I don't blame him), but it was soon all over and he now sports a shiny metal staple looking remarkably similar to a paper staple, under his hair. This appendage has clearly gained him something approaching infamy at school - apparently, several of his friends actually wrote about his staple in their journals yesterday.
Anyway, perhaps the most bizarre thing about the whole episode occurred when we came home from the ER. I asked him if he wanted to watch TV as a treat until his brother got home from school. He opted instead for playing the piano - manically, for about half an hour, and with intense brio.
Regular readers may remember that the boys started piano lessons in September, and Littleboy 1's first one in particular was disastrous, as he banged on the piano, misbehaved and refused to do anything the teacher asked. Well, those of you mulling the idea of starting your child on an instrument, do not let this put you off. About six weeks into his course of lessons, something miraculous occurred. Littleboy 1 decided he LOVED the piano. He began practising all the time, unprompted, improved very quickly and was soon racing through his first piano book. He performed brilliantly at the music school recital in December, and his teacher now says he is one of her most promising pupils. It was completely unpredicted, as we had thought Littleboy 2 would be the more musical one (he's doing fine, but as you would expect) - just goes to show you never can tell.
Even knowing that, I was still fairly astonished that after a session in the ER, all he wanted to do was practice the piano. Then I remembered the time that his grandfather - himself a very talented pianist - had accidentally swallowed a wasp in a glass of cider (yes, really.) Refusing all offers of being driven to hospital, his reaction was to drink more cider, then sit down and manically play the piano.....
Maybe it runs in the family.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
Why I won't be watching the Super Bowl
Why - unlike almost everyone else in New York - I won't be watching the Super Bowl on Sunday.....
1. I simply don't understand American football. And, frankly, I have no desire to learn about it. Yes, I know the New York Giants are in it, and all that, but frankly, I couldn't name a single player.
2. My husband and children also have no interest. The boys are still confused about why we call 'soccer' football and Americans call the thing they play in helmets 'football'. They haven't mentioned the Super Bowl to me (they're actually more obsessed with Groundhog Day a the moment, bless them). As for The Doctor, asked by the boys to give an example of a 'football team', he mentioned The Mets. (Er, baseball).
3. Despite the fact that I write about advertising for a living, I don't need to watch the actual Super Bowl commercial breaks, because most of the ads have already been released on YouTube this year. (Among the best are the Ferris Bueller Honda ad with Matthew Broderick all grown up, and the new VW ad, The Dog Strikes Back, (although it has to be said, the teaser for this, The Bark Side, was actually better).
4. We can't watch it! We'll be driving back from the Catskills, where we are spending the weekend (hopefully) ski-ing with friends. I say hopefully because it has been about 15 degrees celsius in New York this week - not exactly snow-friendly weather. The boys were playing outside yesterday without coats. But the resort is supposed to have excellent snowmaking facilities, and, according to the New York Times, ski resorts are virtually empty on Super Bowl weekends, so at least there will be no lift queues. (Apparently, it's also a good day to get a bargain plane ticket). And when we do get back, I'll be tuning into Downton Abbey on PBS, rather than ripping open the Doritos and sitting back to watch the game.
5. When everyone is chattering about the Big Game on Monday, I will be able to, once again, come across as the crazy English person who has no interest whatsoever. Or, I can just nod sagely, and say 'what a game!'.
1. I simply don't understand American football. And, frankly, I have no desire to learn about it. Yes, I know the New York Giants are in it, and all that, but frankly, I couldn't name a single player.
2. My husband and children also have no interest. The boys are still confused about why we call 'soccer' football and Americans call the thing they play in helmets 'football'. They haven't mentioned the Super Bowl to me (they're actually more obsessed with Groundhog Day a the moment, bless them). As for The Doctor, asked by the boys to give an example of a 'football team', he mentioned The Mets. (Er, baseball).
3. Despite the fact that I write about advertising for a living, I don't need to watch the actual Super Bowl commercial breaks, because most of the ads have already been released on YouTube this year. (Among the best are the Ferris Bueller Honda ad with Matthew Broderick all grown up, and the new VW ad, The Dog Strikes Back, (although it has to be said, the teaser for this, The Bark Side, was actually better).
4. We can't watch it! We'll be driving back from the Catskills, where we are spending the weekend (hopefully) ski-ing with friends. I say hopefully because it has been about 15 degrees celsius in New York this week - not exactly snow-friendly weather. The boys were playing outside yesterday without coats. But the resort is supposed to have excellent snowmaking facilities, and, according to the New York Times, ski resorts are virtually empty on Super Bowl weekends, so at least there will be no lift queues. (Apparently, it's also a good day to get a bargain plane ticket). And when we do get back, I'll be tuning into Downton Abbey on PBS, rather than ripping open the Doritos and sitting back to watch the game.
5. When everyone is chattering about the Big Game on Monday, I will be able to, once again, come across as the crazy English person who has no interest whatsoever. Or, I can just nod sagely, and say 'what a game!'.
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