I’ve experienced culture shock twice. The first time I was nineteen. I’d just moved to Brighton from Trinidad to study English Lit at university. There wasn’t a language barrier (much – there still managed to be a lot I didn’t understand or couldn’t make understood easily) but just about everything else was unfamiliar, from the sense of humour to the cultural markers to the public transport. But I was fortunate to fall into a lot of fast friendships that sustained me through those years and many of those people remain
The ‘plan’ is to grow our own vegetables and keep the rest of the garden in a state fit for respectable people, we shall see. I think I’ve killed my poinsettia from Christmas. I’ve been warned to stay away from the basil plant. My mum will remember me moaning about having the water our millions of potted plants.