For the first twenty seven years of my life I lived in England, with the exception of one year that was spent *studying* in France. Back in England I was one Brit in a sea of millions. Nothing about me to get excited about, I blended in with the British crowd. It turns out though that a Brit living abroad is even more British than a Brit in Britain. Still with me?
Sticking Out Culturally
When I moved to the Netherlands I was suddenly a Brit in a sea of Dutch people. I stuck out in the crowd; well actually I absolutely didn’t stick out in the crowd. Remember that the Dutch are a tall folk. But culturally I definitely stuck out. I was suddenly the odd one out. Everywhere I went. Every time I opened my mouth.
People notice that you’re British when you are a Brit living abroad.
Living Abroad Makes You Realise Just What Being British Means
Away from Britain, I came to realise just what being British means. And how British I actually am.
I noticed it in the small things, I saw it in the big things. I saw it on a daily basis. Every time I opened my mouth to speak I was acutely aware of how British I am.
Queuing
Every time I tutted as the queue that should have formed behind me descended in to a free for all, I acknowledged my Britishness. Every time I stared daggers (without them noticing of course) at the queue jumper in front of me, I realised I was embracing that part of me that makes me British.
Greeting Strangers
Every time I cringed when a Dutchman actually said hello to me as he entered a lift, I felt British. On every occasion I was greeted in the waiting room by a fellow patient in the Dutch doctor’s surgery, I felt like an alien. A British alien.
Food
Every fruitless search for Branston Pickle and crumpets and proper tea in my local Dutch supermarket left me feeling more British than ever, a despondent and homesick one at that. But that’s just a normal part of life as a Brit living abroad. Luckily my stiff upper lip never let me feel down for too long.
Apologising
Saying sorry as a Dutch shopper rammed me with her shopping trolley opened my eyes to my reflex British quirks.
Some British Traits are Just Too Deep Rooted to Change
Whenever I glared at a fellow train passenger whose music blares from his earphones, turning my head away at breakneck speed when the culprit turned to stare back at me, all so they don’t actually see me glaring, I knew there is a British part of me that will never fade. No matter how long I live outside of Britain.
Every time I walked away from the hairdressers looking remarkably the same as when I went in, nodding enthusiastically when asked if I like my new haircut, I knew my Britishness is all consuming.
And that big inner cheer I gave, the fist punch in the air in the empty room, when I heard that Marks & Spencers had finally reopened its doors in The Hague tells me the Britishness inside this girl is here to stay.
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