All posts for the month January, 2007


Published January 9, 2007 by jean cohen

The exile continues, but, hey, it’s not all bad. I’m managing to have fun and keep busy.

On Saturday, Scary Fairy and I went to the movies, to see Children of Men. Let me say, right here, if you’ve been thrown out of the United Kingdom recently, don’t see this movie. It depicts the Britain only a few of us ever get to experience first hand. I did have Mary howling with my little asides. "Wow. That looks exactly like Immigration at Terminal 3!" "I recognize the German Shepherd eating that guy!"

Actually, I liked the movie; she didn’t. I had read the book, so I sort of knew what was going to happen, although sometimes a movie doesn’t even resemble the book. After the movie, we went shopping. After all, Jersey = Malls.

The playoffs have started in proper, real, exciting, American football. Both of New York’s teams played over the weekend. The Jets, whom I like, never had a chance. The game was basically over by halftime. It’s sheer bliss to be able to mention that the detested Cowboys (and T.O.) lost too.

Of course, the game was the Eagles vs. the G-men on Sunday. A slew of texts and emails from the UK dissing my team had me pumped. And, of course, the Eagles won, with a field goal in the last ten seconds, prompting a slew of gloating texts and emails from Clifton. I think I will lay low this weekend and turn off my mobile. We’re playing the Saints.

A friend emailed me the link to a really neat website. I’m passing it on: I don’t usually do quizzes, but this one was fun. It was called "What Kind of American Accent Do You Have?" I answered the questions, and clicked the submit button.

The result: "Your accent is as Philadelphian as a cheese steak! If you’ve journeyed to some far off place where people don’t know that Philly has an accent, someone may have thought you talked a little weird, even though they didn’t have a clue what accent it was that they heard." I didn’t know Philadelphians had an accent. And I keep telling Scary Fairy that she has the accent – a real New Yawk one.

Darling Scotty has coined a slogan for my battle against the Immigration and Nationality Directorate – "Free the Weybridge One". I think we should have bumper stickers and signs printed, and plaster them all over Surrey. Any volunteers? Perhaps a rally at the Grotto? Or a benefit concert (starring Robbie Lee)? Note to Cheese Boy: Work on it.







Published January 3, 2007 by jean cohen

The holidays, thankfully, are over. Not that they were bad. Christmas with Scary Fairy’s family was lovely, including a variation of the Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve (an Italian custom) at her Mom’s. I’m just impatient for the bureaucratic wheels to start turning on my appeal.

The encouragement and support from my friends in England has been inspiring. Emails and texts flow in a steady stream, and they are deeply appreciated. Of course, I would not be Jeano if I didn’t add a jeremiad that there are people I expected to hear from, but didn’t, as well as people I didn’t think would bother to reach out, and they certainly lived down to my expectations. Hey, that’s reality. People you think are your friends will disappoint you, but only if you let them.

One great email, from Pat, the owner of the Grotto, reminded me that there are worse places than North Jersey I could be stuck in – like Dallas, or Houston, or Tulsa. I guess she’s got a point. At least I can watch the Eagles games on telly here.

Kalamity Karen (Scary Fairy’s sister) was here from Montana for the holidays and she and I convinced Mary that we needed a serious night out . . . at a Biker Bar. I got all dolled up, including make-up, in case I lucked on to the Leather Guy of my dreams. I did see "Easy Rider" like fifteen times. In a former life, my ambition was to grow up and be a Biker Chick. I optimistically told the ladies I’d be home after breakfast the next morning.

What a difference fifteen or twenty years makes. Okay. Thirty. The bar was small, and sleazy comes to mind as an appropriate adjective. There was live music; it was a quartet. But it was Jazz. Not the kind of tunes you can sing along to. The female patrons were, how can I put this nicely, decidedly unattractive and slutty. One chick had the biggest tattoo on her boob that I had ever seen. I thought it was a birthmark, but Karen, who has sharper eyes than me, said no, it was a tattoo and was meant to be attractive and attention-grabbing. It grabbed my attention; I was going to suggest a chemical peel might help. And not wearing low cut tops.

Now, the men . . . what can I say? Do bikers not look in the mirror before they leave home to go to sleazy bars? Leather only works if you’re thin. That goes for men and women. But especially for guys. I did talk to a few Biker Guys, but it was sort of on a par with chatting with Leechy right before Last Call. Maybe it was me. I know I have impossibly high standards.

There were non-Biker Guys there too. Perhaps a suit jacket, jeans and sneakers are considered high fashion in pubs in North Jersey. I wasn’t enticed. Karen played video games, and Mary answered emails on her Blackberry. After about a hour, I was bored shitless, and ready to go home. That was the sum and total of my exciting night in a Biker Bar.

New Year’s was quiet this year. No pub for Jeano. My mobile started going off at 6:30 PM (11:30 in Weybridge) with messages from my friends. Mike’s message: "2007 – The Year We Get Jeano Back to Weybridge."