Grocery Shopping

I made my first foray into British grocery shopping very shortly after we arrived. If we wanted to eat and avoid eating at a restaurant for every meal, we needed food and supplies for our temporary accommodations. Iceland was very close, so that was my first stop. It’s somewhat of a specialty store in that they sell predominantly frozen foods and have only a small assortment of other items. That was fine as we only had a small assortment of pots, pans, and utensils at our disposal anyway.

The first challenge was figuring out the shopping carts—they’re chained together. It took a few moments, but we figured out that to use one you put a pound coin in the slot and push it in to release one cart from the others. You get your coin back when you return the cart and reattach it to the rest. The big upside to that system is that there aren’t carts strewn about the parking lot threatening to roll into your car—just be sure to keep a pound coin handy.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that this was going to be a whole new shopping experience and not just because most things were frozen. They sell different things, use different words for things, and arrange things completely differently. English muffins are crumpets—well, sort of but not really. The English muffin is not English at all. Scones are a lot like biscuits, but to the British biscuits are cookies. Fries are chips, chips are crisps, and dessert is pudding—which may or may not be actual pudding. There are courgettes and aubergines in the produce department instead of zucchini and eggplant. Eggs aren’t refrigerated. While most American grocers have an entire aisle dedicated to breakfast cereals from Apple Jacks to Wheaties, British stores have a much smaller section dominated by things like porridge, oats, muesli, granola, and a few cereals like corn flakes, Weetabix (like Shredded Wheat), Cheerios, and Rice Krispies.

Everything is in grams and liters, which might not seem like a big deal since you can see the size of the item you’re buying, except that, like in the US, there’s often a lot of air space in the package making it look like more than it is. Understanding how many servings are in something can be a challenge. We shared a single portion for a couple meals before I got the hang of it. Bizarrely, milk lists how many liters and pints—no quarts or gallons though. And forget deciphering nutrition information. How many calories in a kilojoule? Anyone?

Of course, prices are in pounds and pence. Which makes everything seem less expensive until you do the math. Although, we were pleasantly surprised by prices. Overall, they’re similar to what we’re used to. Some things are more expensive, but that’s offset by other items that are less expensive. Cereal is remarkably less expensive here, especially American brands like Kellogg’s (which doesn’t make sense, but we’re not complaining). Pasta imported from Italy is downright cheap (which does make sense). Bread costs a little less. Dried herbs and spices are much less expensive, but vanilla extract is quite dear.

We were amused to come across a “Mexican food” section. It was an Old El Paso display with some Uncle Ben’s Mexican Rice on the side. Other than tortillas and refried beans, we’d never seen any of these items for sale in US stores or on the menus of Mexican restaurants—smoky BBQ flavor fajitas and sweet paprika and garlic tacos. Huh? I passed on that section entirely.

After making my way through the aisles and filling the basket, I headed for the checkout line—er, queue. We didn’t have a British bank account yet, so I paid with an American bank card, which elicited a reaction somewhat like paying with a stack of coupons and loose change in an American store. It takes longer, confuses the cashier, and annoys everyone behind you. All because the US doesn’t have the chip and PIN system but instead requires signing and presenting the card for the cashier to compare signatures. Old school, cumbersome, and super fun to juggle while bagging groceries. Did I mention that there are no baggers here? You bag your own groceries in your own bags (or buy reusable bags from the cashier and bring them next time).

One of the biggest differences we’ve been happy to get used to is how fresh the food is and how few preservatives are used. They aren’t kidding about “best by” dates here. It’s hard to buy anything that will last more than three to five days. Bread will be moldy the morning after its “best by” date. Salad will be wilted, and grapes will be soft. Between that and smaller fridges, shopping twice a week is necessary.

Which leads me to my favorite discovery, they all deliver! If you spend more than £20 at Iceland, they’ll deliver it to your home for free. The large, regular retail grocers have online ordering and delivery—similar to what’s available in the US, which I stupidly never took advantage of because I wanted to pick out my own produce and didn’t want to have to be home at a specific time for a delivery. I know better now.

I’ve learned a lot since that first shopping trip. I’ve even done my first baking in Celsius (thanks, Google). So, we’ve made adjustments, learned a few things, and found some new favorites to take the place of the old favorites that we can’t get here. And, we effortlessly developed an appreciation for scones and Yorkshire pudding (which isn’t dessert).  So, life is good. No, life and English peas are good; nothing beats English peas.

 

 

 

 

 

House Hunting

Our house hunting “process” began about the time of my first job interview, six months before our move. Initially, it consisted of looking at real estate websites (we preferred www.rightmove.co.uk) and dreaming of the possibilities. We both kept running lists of favorites, hoping that the Real Estate Gods might favor us with one of them.

That didn’t happen.

The housing market in the UK is incredibly active, and according to our agent (a lovely woman named Manjit), most houses spend less than three weeks on the rental market before being spoken for. That seems about right. We sent her a list of the houses we wanted to view on February 21st, and by the time we ventured out to look at properties on the 28th, none of the houses on our list were available.

The plus side of all that surfing and hoping was that we arrived in England with a clear idea of our requirements: Three to four bedrooms, en suite master bathroom, a room that could be used as a dedicated writing space, and since we knew that we’d be going without a car for a while, a location within easy walking distance of the Tube. We also wanted a place that looked English, rather than cookie-cutter modern.

In the States, I never went through a real estate agent to find a rental property. I looked online or in the paper, and once or twice, I just called a number on a sign outside a place that seemed like a nice place to live and spoke to the landlord or the manager directly.

That’s not how it works in the UK. Over here, the process is more like buying a house: You hire an agent, tell them what you need, they consult the listings for potential matches, line up appointments, and then go with you to see each place, where you’ll be greeted by the landlord’s agent.

We looked at several houses in two days of searching. As you’d expect, most were minimally maintained. The back fence at one place was partially collapsed. Two smelled heavily of mold. One smelled like urine. These were not inexpensive properties we were looking at either.

One was almost perfect—a Tudor-style four-bedroom cottage with a distinctive blue front door and a name. I’ve always wanted to live in a house with a name. After all, Lizzie Bennet had Longbourne and then Pemberly, Ross Poldark has Nampara, and Jane Eyre has Thornfield Hall.

Judging by the color of the interior walls, however, the owner of that lovely named cottage with the blue door was clearly fond of lilac and purple. These are fine colors, and I have nothing against them, but not every day. Not to wake up to. What decorating compromises would we have to make? Lavender upholstery, no doubt.

Moving on.

Another surprising thing about viewing houses for rent is that the current tenants don’t seem to make any effort to be out of the house when you arrive. When we reached the house we eventually settled on, that was the case. When we walked in, it felt as though the occupant was judging us, or at least me. When we learned later that he’s a dentist, I thought, “Well, that makes sense, then.”

After you’ve selected a home, things get more complicated. Quoted rent prices aren’t the flat price they are in the States. Here, you make an offer through your agent and wait for it to be accepted. After the landlord takes your offer, you pay a deposit of one to two weeks’ rent to guarantee that you’ll follow through. If you withdraw or fail the credit check, the landlord keeps your deposit.

While you’re waiting for the credit check to clear, your agent reviews the rental agreement, and like buying a house in the US, landlord and tenant (and their agents) negotiate rental terms. Pay attention: there will be small, almost non-sensical clauses in the rental agreement like, “Tenant agrees to keep the existing landline phone number.”

On signing day, you’ll have to have your first month’s rent plus a deposit of at least six weeks’ rent. If you have pets, the deposit will typically be two full months’ rent. The deposit goes into a holding account that the landlord will only get access to after you move out, so there’s little danger of them absconding with your deposit.

Move in day is a much more complicated process than we Americans are accustomed to. Both landlord and tenant hire inventory agents whose job it is to inspect the property and note any issues. They work separately but simultaneously, comparing lists at the end. In our case, there were a few items that needed to be taken care of by the landlord: some of the lighting wasn’t working and the lawn needed to be mowed. Mostly though, the validated list just documents the state of the place when you move in and serves as a point of comparison for the end of your tenancy. They don’t make allowances for “normal wear and tear.” If something breaks, you either get it repaired or the landlord pays for the repair out of your deposit after you move out.

Unless your moving expenses are covered by your employer, you can expect to pay between 300-500 quid for all these agents and services. This ain’t a cheap place to live.

Even with all the hassle and expense, it’s completely worth it. Yesterday afternoon, after our trip to Windsor, I stood by the back window watching the rain, and I was struck by how beautiful it all is. “We live here,” I thought. “We live here.”