#VeryBritishProblems

So yesterday was my first day back in the London office since I went on leave. There were many pleased-yet-awkward greetings with my work colleagues, but this exchange took the cake.

Me: *goes for hug*
Him: *proffers hand*
Me: *already has left arm around one shoulder, but tries to proffer right hand anyway*
Him: *sees me going for hug, aims for kiss on cheek*
Me: *realises too late that kiss on cheek is option, kiss ends up somewhere in the air over my opposite shoulder*
Both: *give up on the attempt, step apart and carry on with embarrassed mumbly verbal greetings*

The best part: he's originally Polish and I'm originally American. Oh, Britain. This is what you do to your immigrants. We used to know how to greet people smoothly and confidently. And now we can't. THANKS A BUNCH

This is the post I really wanted to make about immigration

I'm a migrant. I came to the UK in search of new opportunities, a new job and a better life. I came on an aeroplane. I had a visa. And I was lucky enough to find all of those things.

A refugee is not a migrant. A refugee is someone who is so desperate they'll pay their life savings to put their toddler on a leaky boat in the sea on the slim chance they'll find safety somewhere else. Even the thought of having to do that to my children makes me physically ill. No one does that who is not at the absolute end of hope. No one.

It makes me ill that the British government's position is that it has been doing enough to help these people. Yes. By doing such helpful things as cancelling funding for the boat rescue service that could have prevented them from drowning. Very helpful. Because you don't have to offer asylum to corpses.