I’m finally coming back to the UK after 20 months of Covid chaos

After 20 months outside the UK, it’s finally happened: I’ve been given clearance to return to the rainy island from whence I came. When I left, in December 2019 on a packed New Year’s Eve flight full of people blissfully unaware that we’d soon yearn for the time when we were elbow-to-elbow on unmasked public transport, I expected to come back in three months. Now, a summer and a Christmas and two wedding postponements and a whole pandemic later, I’m getting a suitcase together and planning to see my family outside of a Zoom screen. It feels surreal.

I’m travelling back to the UK under special dispensation in order to meet third-time-lucky wedding suppliers and see relatives for a three-week period. Just last week, the whole thing felt impossible — and now everything’s happening at once. I’m packing up my cat’s litter box, water fountain and toys for his mini-vacation at a friend’s apartment in Sunset Park. I’m booking Covid tests, buying N95 masks and liaising with my airline to get all the requisite pandemic paperwork together. I’m talking seriously to my parents about when I’ll see their faces again. And – as never changes when you travel transatlantically – I’m fielding endless requests about what I can bring my British compatriots from the Land of the Free.

There is a British obsession with American merchandise that runs incredibly deep. Even things that are available now in UK stores and which are objectively unexciting – Five Guys burgers, Lululemon leggings, Shake Shack milkshakes, any clothing at all with the star-spangled banner emblazoned across it– seem to captivate English audiences in a way that I now find deeply amusing.

Of course, some of the requests I’m received are down to the more lax regulations America affords: Crest teeth whitening strips, for instance, are probably going to turn our incisors into haunted dust after 10 years of usage but are high on the list for friends about to get married or host social events. Similarly, some make-up brands which probably contain flakes of uranium or some other such hideous carcinogen are sought after by those stuck in countries where “freedom from” has a bit more sway than “freedom to”.

Other requests I’ve taken recently: individually commissioned T-shirts done by artists in California who will only ship inside the US; special edition Oreos; Bath and Body Works candles (another obsession I will never understand – it’s just the Body Shop in different packaging!); gummy candies; hair dye; tote bags; bacon-infused chocolate (sorry, not allowed across the border); and “I <3 NY” merchandise (much of which has become difficult to come by during the pandemic, when tourists are few and far between.) My suitcase is half-packed and I haven’t even put any of my clothes inside it.

Because I’ll be isolating for a few days in my sister’s flat (and she’ll be moving temporarily into my mum’s house), I’ve also been able to request from her a few British things I’ve missed while stuck outside of Blighty: Tetley tea bags, crumpets, Yorkshire puddings, sherbet sweets, salt and vinegar crisps, proper cheddar cheese, French wine (the last one doesn’t count as British, I know, but is much more abundant in the UK than it is in Brooklyn.) I’ve found myself turning on BBC radio stations via the internet in preparation for landing, and I’ve had to start reprogramming my brain to look towards the other side of the road when crossing the street. I’m still finding the idea of a country full of people who speak like me slightly mind-boggling. Although of course I don’t speak exactly like them now: I have a weird and wonderful mid-Atlantic accent, one which sometimes throws forth an American “hey, buddy,” before combining it with some Britishism like, “that sounds like a faff.”

I’m even looking forward to the mild, overcast weather and the hay fever I erupt in every time I land in our wet, green country. And – whisper it – there are some things I’m going to miss about New York, like the good coffee and the excellent bagels, the Mexican food and the trashy reality TV (oh how I’ll yearn for you, 90 Day Fiance.) Still, I’m 99 per cent excitement. After so much global chaos, I’m on countdown to repatriation and I can scarcely believe it.