Postcard Memoirs

Jennifer Litt

You’re a college senior, an Anglophile majoring in English literature, with no interest in teaching. You have no job in the offing, a yearning for adventure, and most importantly, e no boyfriend. Securing a position as an au pair might be the perfect enterprise for you.

 An au pair is a young foreigner, employed to take care of children, do housework, and other odd jobs in exchange for room and board. Whatever you do, don’t mistake an au pair for a nanny, who has received special training to care for children. Lose the Mary Poppins image, but do entertain the idea of moving to an English-speaking country. Remember you want time for fun, which means no changing nappies or investing in Rosetta Stone language acquisition software. 

Why not head to merry old England?

Interested?  

Search the Internet for Help Wanted ads in the greater London area. Soon enough you’ll make the right contact and be offered the position, then it’s time to get your passport, and away you go!

When you arrive at Heathrow, your employer will be waiting for you. Expect to be nervous, which will exacerbate your jet lag and leave you dragging for weeks. You’ll be over the moon when you find out the rest of the family is on summer vacation in Ireland. Your new residence will be a late Victorian with parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme in the back garden. Your bedroom will be undergoing Laura Ashley renovation. Two former ballet dancers who have succumbed to Cadbury bars and sausages will be living in the separate flat on the third floor.

You said you wanted adventure.

August gives way to September. It’s time for the children to return to school, and time for you to adapt to a new routine. Get up at 6:00 a.m., throw in some laundry, put out breakfast for the children; four children whose schedules you must commit to memory. While the children are at school, you’ll have to pick up, maybe dust a little. The domestic life will leave something to be desired, so focus on one area to master. Perhaps it will be cooking, though the only dish you know how to prepare is something your family calls “super chicken,” chicken breasts baked with cream of mushroom soup and wine served over rice.

Becoming the family cook entails visits to the supermarket, in addition to the individual local shops. The problem is you have to drive there, and in England you have to drive on the left side of the road.

You could introduce the children to spaghetti and chili, which they will enjoy as long as the fire extinguisher (pitcher of water) is nearby. Speaking of the children: make sure you’re home before them to let them into the house, give them afternoon tea and then take them to dance and scouts. nota bene:. Learn to make proper English tea

Don’t forget that being American makes you vulnerable to ridicule. If you say OJ for orange juice, one of the children might say, “Okay, let’s have a little OJ.” He will say this with a Texas accent even if you’re from New England, or a benign Mid-Atlantic state.

After dinner the father might challenge his nine-year-old son. “I’ll give you a halfpenny if you can name the capital of Iceland.” To which the boy will undoubtedly respond “Pity it’s not Rangoon, but that’s the capital of Burma.”

When you’re riding with the family on a day trip to Hampshire, be prepared to play the license plate game. Whenever a car passes,  use the letters on the license plate to come up with a word in which the letters appear in their original order. If you come up with the word vichyssoise from say VHY, one daughter will stare at you in disbelief. British children, like their parents, believe they are superior to the break-away colonists. Pretty soon you’ll believe it, too.

During the course of the year, you’ll go to plays and concerts and art exhibits. Your employers might even arrange for you to take graduate classes while the children are in school. You’ll absorb the culture almost by osmosis and begin to enjoy eating Marmite.

You’ll discover that films with the words au pair in them are often X-rated. You’ll start speaking with a British accent.

You’ll learn to make bubble and squeak and to bake gooseberry tarts.

You’ll fall in love with British children.

You’ll even celebrate Boxing Day

Jen Litt writes poems, memoir, and fiction to find balance between levity and gravitas in her life and has received invaluable guidance from her teachers, Thom Ward, Sonja Livingston, and Sarah Freligh. She works as an adjunct professor in the English departments of Saint John Fisher and Monroe Community Colleges and is the sole proprietor of Jennifer Litt Writing Services. Jen lives in Rochester with her cat Phantom.