Jessica McFarland

Ever read The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein?

It’s a classic, and it’s how I feel about Opryland USA. In one form or another, it has been with me throughout the stages of growing up.

When I was a kid, Opryland was a theme park in Nashville, Tennessee (very slightly north east of it, actually). Growing up in the midwest as I did, amusement parks were the pinnacle of entertainment. There was simply no better way to spend a day than riding roller coasters, watching Motown revues, and eating park food. After I moved away, I realised that some people grow up with mountains and kayaks and nature, but in Illinois, not so much.
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Oh, Newcastle Brown Ale.

I didn’t appreciate it when I lived in America. It’s so easy to come by there. Not only is it readily available in the supermarket (unless you live in certain Southern counties and it’s a Sunday), but I even used to work at a bar that had it on tap!

On tap! I’ve never seen it on tap here. I’ve never drank it at a public place. I’ve only ever enjoyed it at home. When I lived in America, and it was everywhere, I never tried it. It was too dark, and I’m a girl, so it scared me. Now that I’ve realised how delicious it is, and I’m much, much closer to Newcastle, it’s only there if you look for it. (It’s the Narnia of ale).

A classic case of not appreciating what you have until it’s gone.
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If you live in America, I realise that the subject of this post may not be immediately obvious. In fact, you may be thinking that this is about the Revolutionary War, or perhaps the War of 1812 (which was really against Britain, not Canada, if I’ve understood Simon Schama correctly).

In fact, it isn’t about anything with quite so high a loss of human life as an actual war. In fact, it just so happens that this Friday is the beginning of a little competition called the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Now, I don’t mention this for your benefit if you live in, say, most of the world. You already know. One living in, for a more concrete example, say, England, could hardly have missed the sudden proliferation of St. George’s Cross flags and the remake of the Tears for Fears song, as well as the re-writing of every television ad for absolutely everything anywhere to make it about football (Support the England team! Eat a Kit Kat!).

But if you live in America, you have no idea.
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…I went to a pub.

I had a glass of red wine.

And some cheesy chips, mmmm.

I wouldn’t ordinarily mention this, as it isn’t anything out of the ordinary. However, there was one very slightly remarkable thing about the experience:

I was there alone.

Yep, me, myself, a girl, alone in a pub. A pub full of blokes, having an after work drink, chatting, watching “the game” (I don’t know what game, because I don’t generally pay attention to such things, but I think it may have involved kicking a round object), generally, being blokes.

I sat alone at my table and had a good long think about the situation.
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