Reading the Signs

This guest post comes to us compliments of one of our fabulous London Living Londonistas, Emily, who maintains her own fun and quirky blog on the life of an American expat at Redenni in Wellies.

I believe the signs have a lot to say about the UK and what it has to offer as a host country.

You aren’t here long of course before you notice these. Surely, they aren’t intended for the locals; they must know when to look left. The government seems to be investing serious resources in looking out for our survival. I think it’s sweet that they don’t want us to die.

This one really made me giggle. How slow? Do they want me to drive as if I were dead? But that would be a stop, wouldn’t it? It’s on the verge of being oxymoronic. At least unlikely. I like that I live somewhere where they’re not afraid to make bold adverb choices.

So after admitting me without cost to Tate Modern, they take the time to keep me abreast of their lighting situation and apologize for any potential disappointment. That’s charming. I was in another museum that apologized that a certain display was missing a fish. Here it is.

They clearly care about my satisfaction and hate to see me disappointed or inconvenienced. I’ve never been so overwhelmed by politeness.

Nor have I ever been so tickled by a subordinate clause. This sign in Canterbury doesn’t really rule out drinking; it just seems to say that it’s fine to drink unless you’re such a joker that you attract the attention of the cops and they tell you that you can’t. Message received: Be cool.

And I love spotting ghost signs. Seeing faded, hand-painted advertisements never fails to remind me that I live in a place oozing with charm and history and that I really have to pay attention to appreciate it.

Ha! Thank you, Emily! I’ve never giggled so much posting on this blog…you’re a great wit, girl.

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