Aunty Bean

Forget the Queen. God Save Aunty Bean. Our cherished friend, Kristine "Bean" Kirby, who relocated from Alexandria to the UK in 2006, has been with us for two days, effectively teaching us how to be proper Britons: where to shop (John Lewis!), what to eat (PG Tips tea at Waitrose), how to dress (scarves ladies, scarves), what to read "Red!" which comes with a lipstick every month, and how to drive without losing your mind (keep your rump on the center line).

But that hardly describes her contribution to our new life status. This amazing, brilliant, beautiful woman (who is currently being stalked by every headhunter on this side of the pond - I know this to be true, her mobile phone never stops ringing), today basically co-signed for us in order to get phones (it usually takes a lot longer for non-UK residents, but she graciously has taken 'responsibility" for us, to the great concern of the O2 provider), picked our multiple phone plans, programed our electronics, shopped with us at the Audi dealer, using her considerable feminine wiles to help us score a good deal on two cars (we may buy tomorrow, we'll see) and, God help her, watched our unruly children tonight as we met the soon-to-be new landlord and walked through the new house (We're signing the lease tomorrow!). Kristine insists most Britons would consider this home relatively spacious, but personally I think she's been hitting the bottle). She has even read over our lease (who can resist another pair of eyes?).

We've been introducing her as our most precious concierge. We never knew how much we needed her until she arrived and took over our lives. She has, inexplicably, agreed to come back next week to help us move in to the new place. We are so blessed.

I leave you with photos of The Bean...and the wonderful hats we modeled today on the fly at the fabulous John Lewis.