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BRITISH POET: THOMAS HOOD...SO WITTY, SO POIGNANT

11/15/2012

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I ran across a poem entitled November, penned by the English poet Thomas Hood.  Despite its somber tone, the extravagant negativism of the lyrics made me chuckle.  I felt somewhat vindicated when I read that Hood (1799-1845) was an “English poet and humorist,” so maybe he intended the piece to be over-the-top, and thus humorous.  On the other hand, London in Hood’s day was not only cold and overcast during late autumn, it was also commonly shrouded in pea-soup smog—so maybe the poem isn’t so over-the-top after all.  Although Hood was a humorist, he wrote both serious and witty poetry—but the serious poems brought him recognition and fame.  I’ll let you be the judge about November….  

NOVEMBER
No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon -
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds -
November!


Hood’s father was a London bookseller, so Thomas, in his youth, had the idyllic situation of living above a bookshop, with easy access to literature.  However, when Hood was twelve, his life changed dramatically when his father died.  At age 14, he began work at a business firm, doing bookkeeping-type activities, work from which he derived no joy.  He soon fell ill and moved to Scotland to live with his father’s family, but a few years later, he was back in London.  After his return, he eventually found work as an editor and began writing.  He frequently wrote about contemporary issues—so some of his poetry can be difficult to appreciate if one lacks knowledge about the news of Hood’s day.  But other Hood poems touch on universal subjects and clearly resonate today.

Below is an example of Hood’s humorous take on an issue of his day: grave robbing.  As medicine was inching away from clumsy, barbarous practices, toward a more scientific approach, anatomists were eager to acquire corpses for study, and grave robbers were eager to supply them.  


MARY’S GHOST: A PATHETIC BALLAD
'Twas in the middle of the night,
To sleep young William tried,
When Mary's ghost came stealing in,
And stood at his bedside.

O William dear! O William dear!
My rest eternal ceases;
Alas! my everlasting peace
Is broken into pieces.

I thought the last of all my cares
Would end with my last minute;
But though I went to my long home,
I didn't stay long in it.

The body-snatchers they have come,
And made a snatch at me;
It's very hard them kind of men
Won't let a body be!

You thought that I was buried deep,
Quite decent-like and chary,
But from her grave in Mary-bone,
They've come and boned your Mary.

The arm that used to take your arm
Is took to Dr. Vyse;
And both my legs are gone to walk
The hospital at Guy's.

I vowed that you should have my hand,
But fate gives us denial;
You'll find it there, at Dr. Bell's,
In spirits and a phial.

As for my feet, the little feet
You used to call so pretty,
There's one, I know, in Bedford Row,
The t'other's in the City.

I can't tell where my head is gone,
But Doctor Carpue can;
As for my trunk, it's all packed up
To go by Pickford's van.

I wish you'd go to Mr. P.
And save me such a ride;
I don't half like the outside place,
They've took for my inside.

The cock it crows--I must be gone!
My William, we must part!
But I'll be yours in death, altho'
Sir Astley has my heart.

Don't go to weep upon my grave,
And think that there I be;
They haven't left an atom there
Of my anatomie.


(I highlighted that last verse because I think it’s quite brilliant!)  This next poem is Hood’s most famous--The Song of the Shirt.  In it, he trades humor for poignancy.  The poem is about a poor, Victorian-era seamstress, slaving to feed her malnourished child.  The poem, first published in Punch, became immensely popular with the public and fueled social activists to help women laborers.


THE SONG OF THE SHIRT
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread — 
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch
She sang the "Song of the Shirt."

"Work! work! work!
While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work - work - work,
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It's Oh! to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!

Work - work - work,
Till the brain begins to swim;
Work - work - work,
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!

Oh, Men, with Sisters dear!
Oh, men, with Mothers and Wives!
It is not linen you're wearing out, 
But human creatures' lives!
Stitch - stitch - stitch,
In poverty, hunger and dirt,
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A Shroud as well as a Shirt.

But why do I talk of Death?
That Phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear its terrible shape,
It seems so like my own — 
It seems so like my own, 
Because of the fasts I keep;
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear
And flesh and blood so cheap! 

Work - work - work!
My labour never flags;
And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
A crust of bread — and rags.
That shattered roof - this naked floor -
A table - a broken chair - 
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!

Work - work - work!
From weary chime to chime,
Work - work - work,
As prisoners work for crime!
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed,
As well as the weary hand.

Work - work - work,
In the dull December light,
And work - work - work,
When the weather is warm and bright
While underneath the eaves
The brooding swallows cling
As if to show me their sunny backs
And twit me with the spring.

Oh! but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet — 
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet;
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!

Oh! but for one short hour!
A respite however brief!
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope,
But only time for Grief!
A little weeping would ease my heart,
But in their briny bed
My tears must stop, for every drop
Hinders needle and thread!"

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread

Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch,
Would that its tone could reach the Rich!
She sang this "Song of the Shirt!"



I’ll leave you with a catchy little ditty of Hood’s: A Plain Direction.  If you’re like me, the rest of the day you’ll be hearing “straight down the Crooked Lane, and all around the Square” in your head….

A PLAIN DIRECTION
In London once I lost my way
In faring to and fro,
And ask'd a little ragged boy
The way that I should go;
He gave a nod, and then a wink,
And told me to get there
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

I box'd his little saucy ears,
And then away I strode;
But since I've found that weary path
Is quite a common road.
Utopia is a pleasant place,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

I've read about a famous town
That drove a famous trade,
Where Whittington walk'd up and found
A fortune ready made.
The very streets are paved with gold;
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

I've read about a Fairy Land,
In some romantic tale,
Where Dwarfs if good are sure to thrive
And wicked Giants fail.
My wish is great, my shoes are strong,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."


I've heard about some happy Isle,
Where ev'ry man is free,
And none can lie in bonds for life
For want of L. S. D.
Oh that's the land of Liberty!
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square,"

I've dreamt about some blessed spot,
Beneath the blessed sky,
Where Bread and Justice never rise
Too dear for folks to buy.
It's cheaper than the Ward of Cheap,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

They say there is an ancient House,
As pure as it is old,
Where Members always speak their minds
And votes are never sold.
I'm fond of all antiquities,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

They say there is a Royal Court
Maintain'd in noble state,
Where ev'ry able man, and good,
Is certain to be great!
I'm very fond of seeing sights,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

They say there is a Temple too,
Where Christians come to pray;
But canting knaves and hypocrites,
And bigots keep away.
Oh that's the parish church for me!
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

They say there is a Garden fair,
That's haunted by the dove,
Where love of gold doth ne'er eclipse
The golden light of love--
The place must be a Paradise,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

I've heard there is a famous Land
For public spirit known--
Whose Patriots love its interests
Much better than their own.
The Land of Promise sure it is!
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

I've read about a fine Estate,
A Mansion large and strong;
A view all over Kent and back,
And going for a song.
George Robins knows the very spot,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

I've heard there is a Company
All formal and enroll'd,
Will take your smallest silver coin
And give it back in gold.
Of course the office door is mobb'd,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."

I've heard about a pleasant Land,
Where omelettes grow on trees,
And roasted pigs run crying out,
"Come eat me, if you please."
My appetite is rather keen,
But how shall I get there?
"Straight down the Crooked Lane,
And all round the Square."



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JANE AUSTEN FIGHT CLUB VIDEO

11/15/2012

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This Jane Austen Fight Club video is one of my all-time favorites.  Women's role in Victorian society was so stifled, I suspect some Victorian women may have leaped at the chance to join a fight club!  This video, from the Wall Street Journal's site, accompanied an article about young adults' attraction to Jane Austen and to the Jane Austen Society.  The WSJ ran the article in 2010, but the Jane Austen Society is still going strong.  In fact, in October, the Jane Austen Society of North America held its annual General Meeting in NYC this year, drawing "Janeites" from the US and Canada.  

Chapters of the Jane Austen Society exist in much of the English-speaking world.  Click the following links to visit the various websites:

Jane Austen Society NORTH AMERICA
Jane Austen Society AUSTRALIA
Jane Austen Society UNITED KINGDOM

To read the WSJ article about Jane Austen's enduring popularity, click HERE





<--- Hilarious video, Jane Austen Fight Club


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To peruse Jane Austen books, click HERE
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OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS CHOOSES "WORD OF THE YEAR" FOR US & UK

11/13/2012

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Every year, Oxford University Press (OUP), publishers of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), tracks English language usage closely for twelve months, then chooses a “Word of the Year.”  A team of lexicographers, editors, and marketing/publishing professionals choose a word for both the US and the UK.  Typically, these two words differ, demonstrating that speakers on both sides of the pond continue doing their own thing—as they always have.  The word the lexicographers select intends “to reflect the ethos of the year and its lasting potential as a word of cultural significance.”  That said, the selected words do not necessarily appear in updated editions of the Oxford English Dictionary.  (Updates occur four times a year, in March, June, September, and December.)  Editors at Oxford University Press readily admit that buzz words can come and go—and only some ultimately show staying power.  So what’s buzzing in the USA in 2012?

Without further ado….drum roll please….

The US word of the year 2012 is….GIF.  GIF the verb, not the noun.  The noun already appears in the OED.

I know, I know: I heard a big thud too.  Frankly, I’m scratching my head over this year’s selection.  GIF, of all words!  (FYI: GIF the noun is an acronym for Graphics Interchange Format, a type of file for computer images.  Used as a verb, GIF means to create a GIF file.) 

Here’s my problem with GIF: This past year I’ve hardly heard the word used at all!  I had no idea I was so far out of the cultural loop….In fact, especially when it comes to computer lingo, I thought I was rather much in the thick of things.  Apparently not.  I’m curious to see if my eyes and ears will start finding the word everywhere now that my brain has installed a GIF antenna.  In explaining the OUP’s decision, Katherine Martin, head of US Dictionaries Program at OUP-USA, said, “GIF celebrated a lexical milestone in 2012, gaining traction as a verb, not just a noun.  The GIF has evolved from a medium for pop-cultural memes into a tool with serious applications including research and journalism, and its lexical identity is transforming to keep pace.”

So, there you have it.  GIF. 

I’m sure my Anglophile friends will soon succumb to vapors and need smelling salts if I don’t hurriedly  reveal the word that the OUP chose for the UK....so here ‘tis: omnishambles.

Omnishambles, a word gleaned from the British TV  comedy show The Thick of It, means “a situation that has been comprehensively mismanaged, characterized by a string of blunders and miscalculations.”  (Now, in my opinion, that’s a word!  Very, very useful, indeed.)

All in all, OUP holds a decent batting average with its Word of the Year choices.  Many have had staying power.  For instance, in 2005, they chose podcast.  Now podcast is ubiquitous.  Other chosen words: 2006, carbon-neutral; 2007, locavore; 2008, hypermiling; 2009, unfriend; 2010, refudiate; and 2011, squeezed middle.

And what words contented with GIF in the US this year?

  • Eurogeddon (the horrors of a Eurozone collapse)
  • Super PAC (a type of independent political action committee)
  • Superstorm (a type of “perfect storm” that is unusually large and destructive)
  • Nomophobia (distress caused from not having one’s cell phone nearby / “no” + mo(bile) + phobia…Get it?)
  • Higgs boson (a type of subatomic particle)
  • YOLO (You Only Live Once / Word is often used on social media)
  • MOOC (Massive Open Online Course / A free, university course offered on the Internet)

We all know that using a word in a sentence helps us remember the meaning of the word, so here goes…



"Despite the fact I’ve hardly heard the word GIF this year, I do see GIF images on Facebook and elsewhere on the Internet, so I’m not ready to declare OUP’s decision an omnishambles."  

Oh, and I found a GIF-maker for you, dear readers!  To view the MakeAGif link, click HERE    


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NESSIE, THE LOCH NESS MONSTER, IMMORTALIZED BY PHOTOGRAPHY

11/12/2012

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Photo source: Wikimedia Commons
Seventy-nine years ago, the first photograph of Nessie, the Loch Ness monster, was taken.  We’ve all seen this iconic (albeit grainy and shadowy) photo.  “Loch,” as you probably know, is the Scottish word for “lake,” and Loch Ness is a long, narrow, Scottish lake that is very deep in some parts…perfect spots for a giant-sized monster to hide, right?  Today, visitors can visit the Loch Ness Exhibition Centre in Drumnadrochit, about 15 miles south-west of Inverness.   

What some people may be unaware of is the precursor to the modern Loch Ness monster legend, which dates back to the 6th century.  In this earliest of lake-monster stories, the hero was Columba, a Gaelic missionary monk who spread Christianity amongst the Late Iron Age Celtic folks (called “Picts”).  He and some followers were traveling to visit a Pict King, hoping to solicit the monarch's help in gaining converts to Christianity.  When the monks approached the banks of River Ness, which flows from Loch Ness, they bumped into a group of mourners who were burying their friend, who, they said, had been bitten in half by a monster in the river.  They had tried to save their friend from the monster, but the powerful beast had little problem dragging the man beneath the water and chomping him to death.

Columba, confident in his ability to call upon the Almighty for help, told one of his followers to swim across the river and fetch a boat moored on the opposite bank.  His follower must have held confidence in Columba’s ability too, because he did as told.  As the man swam toward the middle of the loch, the foul monster appeared again, but Columba made the sign of the cross and commanded the creature to cease and desist.  When the monster obeyed and sank back into the inky depths of the loch, Columa’s followers and the burial party stood in awe and soon spread the story about this miracle throughout the land.  The story impressed the Picts and made them eager to align themselves with this (obviously) powerful God of the Christians.

With this legend intact—whether Nessie exists or not—one should not be surprised that it was later embellished upon.  In the early 1930s, a road was built along the edge of one part of Loch Ness, through an area of dense woods, giving people easier access to the lake—and setting the stage for new monster tales.  Sure enough, stories began pouring in.  Fishermen on the lake, local residents, and motorists on the lakeside road, all reported monster sightings.

On November 12, 1933, one Hugh Gray decided to stroll along the loch after having attended church.  Stretch his legs a little.  Alone and with camera in hand (don’t ask me why he had a camera at church—I’m just relating this tale), he heard water splashing and a great disturbance.  Then—lo and behold!—the tail of a monster appeared, rising two or three feet out of the water and moving about rapidly.  Mr. Gray captured an image of the appendage with his camera, and the rest, as they say, is history.

In conclusion, I would just like to say that I, for one, would be happy to sport a “I saw the Loch Ness monster” T-shirt.  Some tourist-shop souvenirs just have more cultural cachet than others.


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THE WORD

11/9/2012

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I would like to give a shout out to The Word, an online educational website for Czech language speakers wanting to learn English.  The Word's editor interviewed me for an article she wrote about Anglophiles, called "Brit Love."  (The story appeared on the website this past Tuesday.)  The Word is a subscription service that features a daily news article--each presented at three different language levels, ranging from easier to harder to read.  Each news article also offers vocabulary tips.  I hope that my Czech readers will check out this website and pass along the word about The Word!


To visit THE WORD website, click HERE
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BRIT RADIO COVERS U.S. ELECTION NEWS

11/6/2012

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Presidential elections take place in the U.S. today, and our country is virtually split, 50-50.  The race couldn't be more exciting!  Last night, the call-in comments on LBC (London's Biggest Conversation) Radio about our election were fascinating.  LBC has a reporter in the States to cover the election and will devote airtime to the election again tonight.  I've provided a link to LBC below.  If you live in Britain or elsewhere outside the US, you may want to follow our crazy, nail-biting election news....and if you live in the US, you will surely want to hear the British perspective about our country and election.  In the same way that learning a foreign language helps one understand their native tongue, so it is with understanding one's culture.


To listen to LBC, click HERE  

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NOVEMBER 5th = GUY FAWKES DAY

11/5/2012

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Don't you Remember,
The Fifth of November,
'Twas Gunpowder Treason Day,
I let off my gun,
And made'em all run.
And Stole all their Bonfire away. 




Today, November 5, the British celebrate Guy Fawkes Day--also known as Guy Fawkes Night or Bonfire Night, and in earlier times, as Gunpowder Treason Day. The day marks the anniversary of the failed 1605 "Gunpowder Plot," in which Guy Fawkes and other Catholic conspirators tried to assassinate King James I, a Protestant.  Fawkes was arrested while guarding explosives that had been placed beneath the House of Lords.  The conspirators had intended to set off the explosives while the King and members of Parliament were in the building.  The arrest of Fawkes and his gang, and the subsequent unraveling of the plot, spared James' life.  (Yes, that's the King James that commissioned a new translation of the Bible.)  To celebrate King James' survival, Londoners lit bonfires around town--while a fate of torture and execution awaited Fawkes and his fellow conspirators.


The November 5 celebration continues to this day, though over the years, the tone of the celebration has had many complexions.  Earlier on, it had overtones of politics and religion, which are now largely gone.  Today the tradition comes closer to merging with Halloween.  Families may build bonfires in their yards, or more commonly, communities offer fireworks in public areas such as parks--and revelers may don  Halloween costumes.  Toffee and toffee apples are popular.  In large cites, like London, many parks and other public venues offer firework displays, along with music, food, and drinks.  Of course, where fireworks exist, so do injuries, and many regulations have been instituted trying to prevent them, with frequent demands for more.  (And hedgehog enthusiasts caution those building yard bonfires against inadvertently raking hedgehog nests into the firewood.)  While Guy Fawkes Day is not a public holiday, which would require school and workplace closures, it does offer an evening of "jolly good fun."  


Personally, I'm not keen on fireworks, but sitting with friends around a bonfire, drinking mulled wine and roasting sausages, sounds just about perfect!  Enjoy your evening, my British friends!  


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Odes to London

11/3/2012

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Dear Anglophiles: I will be traveling this week and will blog when I get the opportunity.  Until next time, I leave you with these odes to London....






Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802
by William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)
 
Earth hasd not anything to show me more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning: silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields and to the sky;
ALl bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did a sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock or hill;
Ne`er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!



The Great Frost 
or The art of walking the streets of London
by John Gay (1685 - 1732)

O roving muse, recall that wonderous year,
When winter reigned in bleak Britannia's air;
When hoary Thames, with frosted osiers crowned,
Was three long moons in icy fetters bound.
The waterman, forlorn along the shore,
Pensive reclines upon his useless oar,
Sees harnessed steeds desert the stony town,
And wander roads unstable, not their own;
Wheels o'er the hardened waters smoothly glide,
And rase with whitenened tracks the slippery tide.
Here the fat cook piles high the blazing fire,
And scarce the spit can turn the steer entire.
Booths sudden hide the Thames, long streets appear,
And numerous games proclaim the crowded fair.


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WOULD YOU LIKE TO WORK IN THE UK?  FIND OUT HOW!

11/2/2012

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Thinking about--or merely dreaming about--working in the UK?  How exciting!  But beware: The process for doing so is cumbersome.  UK countries, like most other countries on earth, want their own employed first.  Then, if gaps exist, outsiders can fill them.  But people move to the UK to work all the time, and so can you.  Well, maybe.  If you qualify.

POINTS and CATEGORIES
 If you hope to work in the UK, you must seek approval from the UK Border Agency and acquire a UK work visa.  If you’re a citizen of Switzerland or a European Economic Area country, you’ll get the green light easier.  If you’re a US citizen, you’ll have to jump through more hoops.  When you apply for a work visa, you first get placed in a category or “tier”, then assigned points based upon your situation.  (I know!  I know!  Bureaucracy is painful.)

You’ll get plunked into one of these categories:

  • High-value migrants.  Of course your mom will place you in this category, but the UK has its own point system that determines your eligibility.  The UK likes “highly skilled” and “moneyed.”  Making the cut in this category are investors and entrepreneurs who want to invest in the UK, and people who are “exceptionally talented” in the sciences and arts—and none of these folks need a UK job offer.  They just need to pass the UK’s point-based assessment. 

  • Skilled workers.  For placement in this category, you must have a UK job offer and sponsorship by that employer.  A common way to find a job is to apply with a UK employment agency or an online employment site.  Not any ol’ employer can sponsor you, however.  To be legit, the employer must apply with the UK government to be a licensed sponsor and get approved.  But that’s a good thing.  An official sponsor is monitored and can’t abuse its employees.  On the other hand, sponsors need to keep an eye on their migrant workers to make sure they’re not dastardly people doing bad, terroristic things.  If you place in this category, you still have points to contend with.  For instance, if the job you’ve snagged pays more than ₤150,000/year, you get more points than for a lower paying job.  Likewise, jobs on the “shortage occupation list” get more points than those that aren’t.  You also get points for speaking English. 

  • Temporary workers.   You’ll probably fall into this category if you’re an entertainer, creative artist, sportsperson, charity worker (unpaid work is okay), religious worker, government-based worker, or doing a cultural-exchange.  Generally, you will require a sponsor and be permitted up to a 12 month stay.  You may also qualify for this category if you live in a country that participates in the Youth Mobility Scheme.  (Currently, those countries are Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Japan, Monaco, and Taiwan.) 

  • Others.  This category’s net catches many of the workers that fall out of the other categories.  For instance…. Domestics in private households who work for someone who’s moving to the UK, seamen on fishing vessels operating in UK waters, or representatives of overseas employers—such as a reporter from an overseas newspaper who gets a long-term assignment to cover the UK.

  • Commonwealth citizens with UK ancestry.  If at least one of your grandparents was born in the UK or on a British-registered ship or aircraft, and if you're at least 17, plan to work in the UK, and can support yourself and any dependents that accompany you without public funds, then you may be entitled to stay and work in the UK for up to five years.  Lucky you!

*** Under certain circumstances, you can also enter the UK to work without a work visa—if you qualify as a “business visitor.”  If you’re an academic visitor, visiting professor, overseas news-media rep, or film crew member, you may qualify for this type of entry.

In reading the above, please understand that I am not an attorney and am not giving legal advice.  These statements are my interpretation of UK visa rules, and I’ve tried to simplify them as much as possible.  To get the real McCoy, you need to read the UK Border Agency website or call them.  And BEST OF LUCK in landing a job!  Let us know if you do.  Your fellow Anglophiles love reading success stories!

Click for UK BORDER AGENCY info about WORK VISAS
Click for UK BORDER AGENCY info about BUSINESS VISITORS 

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The Celts, the Pope, and Samhain

11/1/2012

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It’s November 1st--Samhain is upon us.  Some of you may ask, What is Samhain?  Before the Christian missionaries made eradicating pagan beliefs their raison d’être, the pagan Celts marked the four seasons of the year with festivals--and Samhain celebrated the end of the harvest season (autumn) and the beginning of winter.  The other seasonal festivals were Imbolic, celebrating spring; Beltane, summer; and Lughnasadh, autumn.

Samhain was the most important festival to the Celts, and they believed that at this time of year, dead souls re-entered the world and mingled amongst the living—and that fairies, ghosts, and demons pranced about as well.  This rather freaked out the Celts—as it would any of us.  Consequently, they build large bonfires on Samhain, both to celebrate the festival and to keep those other-world spirits at bay.

In 601 CE, Pope Gregory the First—aka “Gregory the Great”—issued an edict to his missionaries that basically said this (and please do forgive my paraphrasing): "Those Celtic cats sure do strange things and have strange beliefs!  If only we were dealing with rational people, with people prone to sensible beliefs like ours!  (E.g., the Immaculate Conception; Eve arising from Adams rib; and the world going to hell in a handbasket because of an apple.)  Because the natives are set in their ways, I think forcing them to change will be a major headache.  So I tell you what…let’s go ahead and allow them to celebrate their wacky festivals, but impress upon them that good will befall them if they celebrate the festivals in the name of Christianity, and evil will befall them if they continue celebrating in the name of their crazy gods and beliefs.  That should scare them into submission!  We’ll call this Samhain thing, where they celebrate the coming of winter and all things dead, “All Saints Day.”  Corresponds pretty well, right?  Oh, and that mid-winter thing they celebrate, when they cut down trees, let’s tell them that’s when Christ was born—say, like on the 25th.  That should work.  Later!  Be careful out there!”

(Note to readers: As I said, that's not the pope's exact wording, but I'm pretty sure the  wording was very similar to this….)



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    Zella

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