Had intended to start this diary aimed at chronicling an uninitiated American's struggle to adjust to life in this land of reputed inhibition and austerity back when I first arrived here 5 weeks ago. My most arduous struggle has been to find any differences between my homeland and the UK. Living in Texas (The Americas) for half of this decade, my skill for identifying and observing the nuanced peculiarities of native populations was finely honed by years spent marveling at the mysterious, gigantic cinder-block temple structures (which the colonials term "mega churches") ubiquitously disseminated throughout an area greater than that of the United Kingdom and applying astute scholastic scrutiny upon the worshipers (comprising nearly every living being of that vast region) who went to and from these great structures. My methodical examination of the mystifying behavioral quirks of the denizens of that alluring yet vexing land might have prepared me better for the one phenomenon here that has required my most urgent attention: cleavage.
It is everywhere. Not only out there for Saturday night social rituals but ripely exposed mid-week, throughout crowds on buses, in children's museums, and in pubs frequented by only the elderly. And it is just as often attached to women who otherwise appear to be trying to present themselves as equals in the arena of commerce and management.
My American colleague reckons it is regarded by natives as merely another fashion accessory, to be buffed, carefully arranged and prominently displayed so as to leave no doubt as to what might be in store in the liberating atmosphere of privacy. [note to self: Could this behavior be an extension of the ancient British proclivity for vigilant accounting of all things? - "By order of the King, all women shall keep in plain view all of their God-given assets, and make available upon demand an un-obscured viewing of said holdings."]
Whatever the case, this will require much further observation.