You may have already heard the story of how, when Mike was here in December, he left his new wool gloves in the cab on his way to work the first day. It was snowy and bitterly cold and he immediately realized he'd lost his gloves when he stepped outside to have a cigarette with co-workers later that morning. One guy he was standing with said, "Is that them?" and pointed to a pair of gloves hanging on the handrail by the office steps. The cabbie had brought back his gloves!
I've noticed that when Brits see something on the ground that someone's dropped, I think it must be customary to pick it up and set it out somewhere visible in case the person who lost it comes back to look for it. I've seen a hat draped on a brick wall, a silver bracelet hanging on a wrought iron fence, a baby's rattle on a fence post.
Mike's been driving to and from work for a few weeks now and he says drivers in England use church-parking-lot etiquette on the roads--even during rush hour. "Oh no, after you. I insist." Smile. Wave.
[Spoiler Alert] Yesterday, Merrit wrote postcards to each of his grandparents. As we were waiting at a crosswalk for the light to change, I asked a woman where the nearest postbox was. She said, "Oh dear, I'm afraid there isn't one nearby at all. But I've got a letter to mail myself and I'll gladly drop your letters in the box for you."
I took her up on it. :-)
