Being an international woman of mystery never required so little effort

When I land in the UK now, I’m a novelty as much as I am in New York, reveals Holly Baxter

Moving to a new city is strange: going home is stranger (Getty)

Moving to a different country is strange, but you know what’s even stranger? Coming back. Every time I come home to the UK from New York, I start noticing things that Americans find strange about English people. I’m currently en route back for the Christmas holidays (I’m treating myself by spending 10 days traipsing in between my mum’s house, my dad’s house and my fiance’s parents’ house, who all live at completely different corners of the country) and I’m preparing myself for an odd kind of reverse culture shock I know I should expect.

During my first month in New York City, a friend of a friend kindly took me out for a drink in a nice area of Manhattan. She was also a British expat, but she’d been living in the US for five years by then, and was considering whether she would ever go home. “I miss so many things about England,” she told me. “The TV shows, the familiarity, the proximity to family. But I’ve become so weirdly removed from it. I tried to listen to a UK podcast the other day and I found the accents so overpowering that I had to switch it off.”

When I hear another English person in a bar or walking down the streets of NYC, I bristle. I hear them how Americans hear them: over-formal, with drawn-out vowels and a propensity to speak in a much lower tone

It’s odd but true that you can retain your own accent but still find it jarring when you hear other people speak that way. I’ve become used to living in a world where the default voice is an American one: my colleagues, the commercials I see on TV, the people I encounter in shops and restaurants and cafes, even the voice announcing stations on the subway – they’re all different to mine, yet they have become my brain’s go-to “normal” accent.

When I hear another English person in a bar or walking down the streets of NYC, I bristle. I hear them how Americans hear them: over-formal, with drawn-out vowels and a propensity to speak in a much lower tone.

People in America also tend to speak faster than Brits. When British friends come over, I find myself wanting to take over their order in a restaurant because they can’t stop themselves from blathering on about nothing at all: “Hello, I was wondering if possibly you might have” or “Sorry, I know you’re busy, but perhaps you could tell me if I can find this.”

 I now notice how American servers tap their feet and roll their eyes as English people take a minute to get to the point. They’re waiting for us all to stop apologising for being there

When everyone around you barks “I’ll get the breakfast burrito” within 10 seconds of catching sight of a waiter, you notice how long it takes to couch things in needlessly formal, overly polite terms. I now notice how American servers tap their feet and roll their eyes as English people take a minute to get to the point. They’re waiting for us all to stop apologising for being there.

Likewise, broadcast news seems horribly slow and devoid of personality in the UK. Where’s the “Hey, New York, you won’t believe this” or the “Next we have a very special thing to show you all”? The presenters don’t smile, they don’t wear Christmas jumpers and they don’t immediately express their opinion (of course, they’re not supposed to). They certainly don’t offhandedly refer to anyone who has been in the military as a “war hero” or encourage people to stand for the national anthem.

These are all things I think are good about Britain – but they also do contribute to a feeling of overall dreariness as opposed to the shiny, happy, TV-on-steroids American way. Likewise, I think a proper minimum wage is one of the most brilliant things about the UK, but, hypocrite that I am, I do end up missing the can-do American service culture (the former 17-year-old Subway “sandwich artist” in me cringes at that, but it’s true.)

The funny thing is that when I land in the UK now, I’m a novelty as much as I am in New York. Everybody comments on my Americanised accent, or the way I’ve picked up phrases like “happy holidays”, “I’ll do a coffee” or “catch the elevator”. People want to ask me what it’s like in NYC, or if I’ve met their cousin’s friend’s dog’s brother who once lived on the Upper East Side (Answer: no, I wish I moved in those circles.)

I smile as I talk about underground cocktail bars, secret celebrity hideouts and exclusive media dinners; back in New York, I talk knowledgeably about meeting the royals and punting on the river. No one needs to know I spend almost all of my time in both countries curled up in holey pyjamas watching reruns of Friends. Being an international woman of mystery never required so little effort.