Saturday I went with Kirsten and her husband to a Bbq in suburban Bexleyheath. It was meant to be in celebration of 4th of July, but it was a grey 5th of July, it was a drive through some of the grimest parts of South London, and was out of time and place. The few English people there were clearly bored by the talk of childhood firework disasters, horrified by the Budweiser and cornbread, and unwilling to play along that I found the whole thing terribly depressing. I'm more and more ambivalent about being an American anyway (I feel fully transatlantic; meaning I'm willing to ignore the worse of both countries and to claim the best), and certainly didn't find any type of pride in the hot dogs, cole slaw, or company. Plus, I felt absolutely ill afterwards. I blame the mud pie.



It's the half-yearly sales so I would have much rather have been in London shopping anyway.