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Archive for September, 2012

The British Dental Salesman – Part II

September 18th, 2012

The true British dental salesman is one who is willing to make the 10,000 km trip to London to witness London 2012.

I arrived only in time to see the last day of the Paralympics, but it was special.

This the British at their best.

Those opening and closing ceremonies….Quirky? Sure.

Typically British? – Proudly so?

But I didn’t understand it – Sorry about that; I did.

Too long – They always are. Gotta give every island the attention it deserves, just like at the UN.

Sunday, Sep 9th – I had to visit my old aunt in Croydon, which is south of London. Had to take the train from Victoria Station.

I decided to walk the 4 km or so. That took me past Buckingham Palace.

I mingled with the thousands.

The leading groups of the wheelchair marathon were due soon.

I called my aunt; I would be a little late.

Then the cheers came up. The lead cars went by; the camera bike, then the leading athlete…

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Being a British Dental Salesman

September 5th, 2012

What is British? When is a Brit an Englishman? Why are the Scots NOT English, and what’s all this confusion about being Irish?

I shall not answer those questions today; that’s what Wikipedia is for? But I certainly have been reminded recently of my identity.

I was born in London, so that makes me English. A Londoner. A Cockney.

British? Oh, yes…and even GREAT British.

When Team GB does so well at the Olympics – my Olympics – my nationality pours out of me.

The success of Team GB at the current Paralympics is yet another illustration that my British pride does reek somewhat of a false sense of identity.

I complain that Israeli TV shows nothing of the events – just the opening and closing ceremonies – yet I secretly am quite happy about that. I have no time to watch.

But I am over the moon that Irish Brit Rory McIlroy overcame Oosthuizen’s lead and Tiger Woods’ surge to win the Deutsche Bank golf tournament.

And I am starting to be over the moon at the prospect of Scottish Brit Andy Murray threatening finally to fin hist first Grand Slam.

During the Bush/Blair days of Iraq and the WMD’s, I would open my sales presentations and lectures with the ‘warning’ that

a) I am British

b) I live in Israel, and

c) I work for a company called, American Eagle, which could not be a more patriotic name, with red/white/blue all over its logo.

I would suggest that this was the moment for any protester to leave the room.

(I must add, of course, that no one ever did. I presumably have only polite persons at my lectures).

British? My parents were refugees from Europe. They happen to flee to London. (We were part of the community known as ‘Continentals’).

British? A the age of 38, my wife and I ‘moved’ to Israel. (She is Israeli – and it’s got more sun there).

At least I fervently hold on to my British passport, although it looks like just any old European thing now, with most of its formal words still in French.

And when the Americans say ‘I love your accent’, I love telling them that I don’t have the accent; they do.

I have the original.

Smile – Promote your dentist.

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