For the reader in Devon who wanted more about trains

You wouldn't believe how many home-made videos there are of Thomas the Tank Engine on YouTube! And some of them have had over a million viewings! I particularly like Widescreen Thomas Meets the T-rex, though it has a scary bit in it so don't show it to your under-fives. But it's ok, there's a happy ending. You can also watch highlights from Thomas Live! on Stage.

On Kawasaki Jack's recommendation I typed in 'gramophone records' and found dozens (make that hundreds) of videos of 78s being played on wind-up gramophones: fine if you like dance-band music, but for the rest of you probably a bit like watching paint dry.

So I typed in 'paint drying'. There are over 450 videos featuring that.

Would I say this has been one of my most productive days?

Not really.

No.

Home for Christmas?

Completion on our house purchase has slipped yet again. We're now trying for next Wednesday, with the aim of moving in the following week - just in time for the kids to break up from school and Christmas to well and truly bite us on the bottom. I'll keep you posted on our progress.

The Girl presented us with a letter to Father Christmas a few days ago. It opens: 'Dear Santa (you don't exist)...' Not the wisest gambit you'd have thought. I wonder what she'll say when she looks in her stocking on Christmas Day and finds nothing but a note saying 'Sure about that?'

The Boy is a true believer - no fool he. A propos of nothing, his favourite word at the moment is 'poop'. I'd like to say he means the noise of a small railway engine, but I'm afraid it isn't so. He tells me the favourite word of another kid in his class is 'inappropriate'. I'm sure there's an interesting story behind that, though I'm thinking best not to go there.

Prepare to be moved

Here are the Girl and Boy this morning, busy de-icing a tree as they wait for the school bus. Note that the Boy is wearing snow boots and gloves, but still no coat.

With our move potentially imminent I made a start on packing today. Not that there’s all that much to pack, really, since most of our stuff is still in the boxes delivered here however many weeks ago. The kids have had toys and books out, but for the most part we've been living with the furniture and equipment that came with this rented house.

For several weeks I've been telling people how much I'm looking forward to using our own things again. That's still true, but I'm realising there's another side to it. Up until now, using borrowed furniture and china, it has felt rather like being in a holiday house. On holiday. Once we're established in our own home, with our own familiar things around us, that'll mean we're in this for the long haul. We'll be settling. OK not forever, but it does in so many ways seem a whole lot bigger commitment than just coming to America did. We're happy and it still feels like we're doing the right thing, but...

Gulp.

We received our first Christmas - or should that be Holiday? - card today. I was quite excited, until I realised it was addressed to The Current Occupant and came from from a random local real estate firm. What a delightful festive gesture, I thought, tossing it into the recycling bin.

Tempuramental interlude

It was never going to be easy, buying a house over here. These past few weeks we've had so many hoops to jump through - proof of this, evidence of that. Today, with the end almost in sight, we were once again sent scurrying around after yet more pieces of paper to show that we are bona fide purchasers and not laundering drugs-money. But finally the bank has approved our loan, so completion should follow later this week.

An upside to the scurrying around was that I got to have lunch with the Man at a Japanese restaurant. The portions had gone native in scale - I'd never seen so much tempura on one plate before - but the flavours were authentic as far as I could remember (I lived in Japan for a while, many years ago).

Other periods of the day were spent attempting to Christmas shop. I wandered round the vast Crossgates Mall for as long as I could stand the relentless Xmas muzak. Then I moved on to fair-trade store Ten Thousand Villages where at least the music, though still Christmassy, was in Cajun.

But enough of this Christmas talk! Happy Hanukkah!

Do they mean us?

The other night we were dozing in front of ER when there was an outbreak of argy-bargy on the screen. Even before they said a word you could tell that the new arrivals in the emergency room were central-casting Brits.

Just not as good-looking as the usual actors. Bad teeth. They had a tottering high-heeled woman in tow who looked a lot like Posh Spice.

When they did start speaking it was with a mangled mockney sort of accent, so I expect they were meant to be from Manchester. At least one of them actually used the phrase 'Cor blimey guv'nor.' Perhaps it was the one who had hurt his ankle during an acrimonious cheese rolling contest - a popular pastime amongst ex-pat Britains in Chicago, we were led to believe. There was a dispute as to the rightful winner of the cheese.

The cheese in question looked suspiciously like a large Camembert.

They communicated with quaint olde English banter ('You slag!', 'You pillock!' etc) and were only silenced by one of the emergency doctors crying out 'David Beckham is a w**ker!'

It made us so proud to think that this is how America sees us.

Train of thought

It wasn't first among our concerns when making the decision to move from Britain, but it did cross our minds that there might be a lack of model train exhibitions over here. What impact would this have on our train-mad Boy?

Well, we needn't have worried. Not only are there model train exhibitions but (this being the USA) bigger, better train exhibitions! We are used to the scout hut variety, or maybe a village hall if the organisers are feeling flush. But today we attended a mega-event at Albany's Empire State Plaza Convention Center, no less.

Although mainly a vendors' market, there were some huge layouts and excellent trains. A forty-wagon freight train! A super-speedy bullet train! The Boy's face lit up with delight.

Even the Girl ('I hate trains') found diversions in the layout scenery (a working miniature fairground and a model play-park with swinging swings), and she was fascinated by the model-maker demonstrating the art of painting teeny workmen.

What impressed me most about the event was how happy everyone was. The men there (and they were mostly men) had that same joy in their eyes that I see in the Boy's whenever he so much as thinks of trains. To be born with a love of little engines is clearly a blessing indeed.

White Rabbits

Though one of them is turning blue - it's flippin' cold out.

We woke to a ...well, not quite a blanket of snow. More of a light-weight tablecloth. But snow nevertheless, enough to make snow angels, and as the Girl said 'Just right for the first of December.'

To my relief the Boy submitted without a murmur to long sleeves, a hat and gloves, and a double layer of fleeces (though still not the coat). Unfortunately he'd left his snow boots at school, but at least he volunteered to wear two pairs of socks inside his shoes. Maybe he won't freeze this winter after all.