… PUBS UP 3!

I recently received a most cryptic invitation asking me ‘whether I would like the Cheshire Cheese’. Sure! Never tried it but… Of course, when you have spent your childhood in France, you are bold about cheeses! I therefore confirmed…

Surprise! This invitation was not for a gourmet evening of Cheshire cheese; it was for a drink, or two, in one of  London's oldest pubs: Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese.

A Grade II listed public house at 145 Fleet Street, initially set up in 1538, Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese was rebuilt shortly after the Great Fire of 1666. The interior is made of flagstone floors, dark wood panelling, some considered to be original, and there is not a single right angle in the tiny rooms! The vaulted cellars are thought to belong to a 13th-century Carmelite monastery which once occupied the area. The entrance to this pub is situated in a narrow alleyway and is very discrete except for the names of all the monarchs who have reigned in England during the pub's time, written to the right of the door.

Once inside, you are literally  ‘puzzled’ with the layout as it looks like a Cluedo board where you have to stoop your head and dive down the most amazing and cramped staircase to find out all the bar rooms.

The pub oozes history and literature as the walls are covered with plaques showing famous regulars such as  Twain, Tennyson, Conan Doyle, Dr Johnson, The Rhymers' Club (a London-based poets, founded in 1890 by Yeats and Rhys) and even Voltaire! Charles Dickens was also a regular and mentioned the pub in a famous scene of 'A Tale of Two Cities': Sydney Carton invites Charles Darnay to dine in Fleet Street, ‘up a covered way, into a tavern’  for ‘a good plain dinner and good wine’.

And guess what? There used to be a ghost! The ghost of a midwife
who haunted the place until she induced the residents to dig up the bones of many dead children she had killed and buried there… At least, this is what a 1680 ballad called ‘A New Ballad of the Midwives Ghost’ tells…

Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese truly encapsulates years of London history and tales. In this month of celebrations, stories about magic and with the help of  a couple of beers, you may encounter the Spirit of Christmas in one of the tiny rooms…
Happy festive season!

Written by Florence Tilkens. Florence is Social Media and Marketing Manager at FOCUS.                                                      

For more information please visit www.focus-info.org  

Should you wish to share your expat experiences in the UK, please contact us: office@focus-info.org

Cracking Good Fun!

One of the British Christmas traditions which I have firmly adopted and highly recommend  is that of setting your Christmas table with Christmas crackers. In fact, why wait till Christmas? With the season of holiday celebrations now well and truly underway, I have already had the excitement of pulling several crackers.

Christmas crackers are a British tradition dating back to Victorian times. In the early 1850s, Tom Smith, a London confectioner, started including a motto to his sugared almond bon-bons which he sold wrapped in a twisted paper package. Many of his bon-bons were bought by men to give to women, many of the mottos were simple love poems.

So, what is this all about you may ask? For those who have not yet experienced this tradition it goes something like this:  At the end of a festive meal everyone seated at the table crosses arms and holds an end of a cracker in each hand. Once all hands are securely gripping the cracker ends there is an almighty pull against the person holding the other end in an attempt to get the larger half! Why the larger half? Well, this is where the fruits of your labour are found (after all, that sort of exertion at the end of a jovial celebration in which much food and alcohol are consumed certainly needs a reward). The snap of the crackers is quickly followed by a scramble to see what trinket is inside the winning half. A mandatory reading of the accompanying joke (typically unfunny to all those over the age of 5) and the adorning of the tissue paper crown complete the ritual.

To give you a better visual of what a cracker looks like, imagine a used a toilet or kitchen paper cardboard roll filled with a trinket (which usually winds up in the bin after a few minutes, hours or days and certainly by the New Year), a joke and a paper crown. Inside the cracker are two strips of chemically impregnated paper that react with friction so that when the cracker is pulled apart by two people, the cracker makes a bang. The roll is then covered in a pretty holiday wrapping and twisted at either end so the finished product takes the shape of an oversized sweet!


So, you get the picture now! Not excited yet? Well then I suspect you are in the market for the more ‘upscale’ luxury crackers. The options are extensive with many luxury brands stocking their own bespoke crackers. There are also themed crackers so for example for a ladies night out you may choose to have the Essie nail polish crackers. At stores like Liberty, Harrods and Selfridges you can find crackers accommodating the most indulgent budgets and fanciful tastes to match the table décor. I do wonder if the jokes get any better in these crackers! Maybe someday I’ll find out, hint, hint…

I am convinced, however, that once the tradition is established in your family you will find as much joy in pulling the less extravagant crackers and find the luxurious ones a bit over the top for their purpose! For me, it is the crossing of the arms and the snap of the cracker along with post meal photos of friends and family all sporting their paper crowns each in their own unique way that make the tradition live on in my family!

So, happy cracker shopping and don’t forget my top tip for success- it’s all in the grip!

Written by Nancy Dickinson.  Nancy is Deputy Executive Director at FOCUS.

For more information please visit www.focus-info.org

It is nearly Christmastime, and the Santa Claus fan club is in high gear!

Who else can eat cookies, deliver packages and squeeze himself down and up the chimneys of every single of the world’s several billion households in one night?

This guy.

Santa is Santa the whole world through, but there are some cultural differences when he visits different countries.

If you have children, you probably pilgrimage to Santa every holiday season. When he visits the States, where we lived until earlier this year, you will find Santa frequenting shopping centres, which always seemed an odd tradition to me since Mr. Claus obviously has no need for pre-fabricated goods.

Americans sit Santa on a king’s throne, surrounded by elves, a photographer and some wintery backdrop. By the time you reach the front of the line, you have been staring at him for hours. Close up, he just looks as tired as your child now does.

With a smile and snap of a camera, your child is pulled off Santa’s lap. Wait, I forgot to tell you about the bike and crayons and Minnie Mouse cashier that I want! 

Luckily, Santa also visits the UK, where we now live. I booked Kids 1 and 2 in for the very first time slot available at Chelsea’s Duke of York Square.

Visiting Santa in England was a surprising and very different experience. Not only was there no line - we had booked our slots online weeks prior - but Santa was chatty, jovial and happy to pause for multiple pictures, which his elves will email to you free of charge (I know. The American in me wanted to let them know just how much parents will pay for those photos...).

He looked different too, dapper. Still a hefty man, Santa wore a well-tailored suit, and there was no lycra / polyester lustre that his outfit often takes on when exposed to American shopping centre lighting. Santa, Britain looks good on you. Even his beard looked better, and when some children stared at it he offered for them to “touch it; I promise it’s real!”

Maybe the North Pole is on the GMT time zone so he’s less groggy here; maybe he is just on his best behaviour in case Prince George shows up.

More likely, Santa prefers the UK because the English give Santa his own grotto.

It’s true. The English seat Santa in a private suite, shrouded from the crowds of queuing children by mostly sound-proof doors.

No one sees Father Christmas until she enters the magical grotto. Inside, there are elves who usher you toward the big guy. Take a seat, make yourself comfortable. Santa sits on a velvet chair. A decorated evergreen nearby reminds him of home, and a plate of cookies sits half-eaten next to him.


In the grotto, you have Santa’s complete attention, and for a few precious minutes you can talk with him about Christmas logistics (first France, then England, next Scotland, Iceland and then off to the United States).

He will ask you where you will be for the holidays, and whether there will be a chimney. He will ask that you remember to blow out the fire before going to bed, since last year he burned his bum when someone forgot to put out the flames. He will also tell you that his reindeer loved the carrots you left last year, and please leave them again.

And then you sit on his lap, he will commend you for your good questions about the reindeer, and you can tell him about the bike with stabilisers that you are coveting. You can hug him, and he will give you some candy, which despite what your mother threatens you know you will finish before you arrive home.

If this is Christmas in Britain, it is certainly something we can get used to.

Written by Susan. Susan is an adventurer, former lawyer, current 'trailing' spouse and constant mother of two daughters. She writes on her blog www.SmartlyMomming.com

For more information please visit www.focus-info.org