Hammer time.

This is a bit of a rant, so excuse me a minute.  

Whilst we're finding that living in the UK is generally wonderful and we are all happy that we made the right decision, there are a few things especially about the people living here in this part of Norfolk, that aren't all rosey rosey - at least from MY perspective.  Kevin and Hayzel have different views because they are working in an office environment and aren't having to relate to the mummies and daddies outside Nursery, Primary schools - or as I do in my general daily interactions with people when you do a bit of shopping etc.

We are living in a village, it's definitely not a big metropolitan area or even a town - there are only two streets (to speak of) and the one street is the main thoroughfare between Ipswich and Norwich  - the A140.   It's got a library on it, a garage, two pubs, a few estate agents, hair dressers, tattoo parlour, bakery ... but that's about it.  You literally blink and you're through Long Stratton - well if you're not stuck in a traffic jam because this road is hellish busy all the time.
The other street goes past the Co-op and another tiny little 'shopping centre' that has one cafe type shop in it, a butchers, thrift shop, stationers, takeaway fish & chips and a hairsalon that's gone bust.   This road leads up to the schools.  That's it really.   Long Stratton is not Edenvale. 

When I was looking for places for us to settle in, the focus was to find a place out in the country, not in a built up, heavily industrialised area, packed with housing estates.  We wanted the country life in a village setting and that's what we've got.   I think if this little village was in any other county in the UK it would be idyllic.   The problem is we are in Norfolk, South Norfolk to be exact.  These 'ere farmers are a weird lot.  

I am taking care of the little ones, so I am going to and from the schools regularly throughout the day - I am brushing shoulders with the same women over and over again, in all weathers.  This is a very small place (as I've said up there), so eventually you basically know everyone here by sight.  We've been here 7 months, so I pretty much know which children belong to which parent now.  (Nursery, Primary and High Schools - are all located within the same block).

I'm finding that Norfolk women (not the men so much) are really strange.  I can't understand them at all.  It's actually driving me round the bend, to be honest.  Maybe it's because the ones I'm having to fraternise with are all of the younger generation (i.e. between 24 and 40), I don't know ... they see you every day, some days they will say hello and actually 'chat' for longer than 2 minutes (glory be, hold me down) ... the next day, they will stare straight through you and look the other way; or cross the road to avoid having to speak to you at all. 

A good example is what just happened this morning.  I took Ewan to Barclays Bank with me, as I had to go and deposit some money.   The pedestrian crossing is situated right by a shop called Royston's Bakery, outside the shop, it's set up for people to have their tea and overpriced crumpets etc. alongside the main A140.  So sitting there at the table is this great big fat bird and her equally fat sister with their assorted kids stuffing faces out there in the sun (well it's not raining today).  There's no-one else on the street, just them.  The daughter of the GBFB is in the same class as Ewan and he was trying to get her attention, calling her name 'Lacy! Lacy!' as we crossed the road but her mum kept pulling her to one side, so she couldn't hear him or see him properly.   The GBFB didn't smile or greet me, just looked straight at me and then pointedly turned her head to one side and carried on talking to her sister.
I thought that I'd imagined it, so shrugged my shoulders and carried on up the path to Barclays.

After I'd done the banking, we again walked back along the path, to the pedestrian crossing - there were a couple of people in front of me, so we had to queue.  Again, Ewan tried to get Lacy's attention and again the GBFB just stared at me, turned her head and looked away.  So no, I wasn't imagining it. And this is the way they are here all the time.

I've been in the Co-op - christ there's only one supermarket here (Co-op), everyone uses it, women who have children at Ewan's nursery school work there and they will also not greet you, or speak to you and you are standing right in front of them at the counter.  So bloody weird. 

Maybe I'm too African.  Har har.  At least in Africa people have the grace to actually greet you and acknowledge that you're alive.  Not here in Norfolk.  I get the feeling that if I was knocked down in the street, the women here would just walk past and turn their head and pretend they hadn't seen all the blood on the road.    I don't remember ever experiencing this level of ostracism from people in Yorkshire, Lancashire, Wales ... even the south in London.   I don't quite know how to deal with it and it's making me right miserable.