“After long study and experience, I have come to the conclusion that [1] all religions are true; [2] all religions have some error in them; [3] all religions are almost as dear to me as my own Hinduism, in as much as all human beings should be as dear to one as one’s own close relatives. My own veneration for other faiths is the same as that for my own faith; therefore no thought of conversion is possible.

“I believe in the fundamental Truth of all great religions of the world. I believe they are all God given and I believe they were necessary for the people to whom these religions were revealed. And I believe that if only we could all of us read the scriptures of the different faiths from the standpoint of the followers of these faiths, we should find that they were at the bottom all one and were all helpful to one another.

– M. K. Gandhi, All Men Are Brothers: Life and Thoughts of Mahatma Gandhi as told in his own words, Paris, UNESCO 1958, p 60.

This is so close to my own evolved beliefs regarding religion that I got chills when I read it…

I have a keen dislike for Bank Holiday weekends. For starters, I have to say that I think the Australian term for having an official nation-wide ‘day off’ from work is far more accurate than the British term. We Aussies refer to these blessed days as ‘Public Holidays’, because that’s exactly what they are - a holiday for the public. The Brits, however, refer to such days as ‘Bank Holidays’, a term which harks back to week days when the banks stayed closed. Let’s face it, it’s not just a ‘Bank Holiday’ anymore is it? And why, when I refer to these holidays as ‘Public Holidays’, must I be subjected to strange looks? It’s pretty obvious what I’m referring to. Plenty of Australians would understand what a ‘Bank Holiday’ is, so why must the cultural acceptance only go one way?

My second reason for disliking Bank Holiday weekends is that they seem to bring out the worst in everyone. Take, for example, our local pub quiz. A typical Sunday night in North Wales is spent at our favourite dive of a pub where we participate in the world’s easiest (and best) pub quiz. The girls in our team are expected to charm Quiz Master Dave into giving away answers, and it’s not at all surprising if a piece of pub furniture gets broken by some drunken lout falling on top of it. Unfortunately, Bank Holiday weekends ruin this tradition for us - every man and his dog turns up at the pub to ‘have a go’ at the quiz whilst getting rip-roaring drunk, and quiz team names such as ‘We’re Shit and We Know We Are’ are some of the more sanitary of the selection. There’s basically no point in going to the quiz on a Sunday night that falls before a Bank Holiday, and thus we lose the opportunity to win two bottles of cheap wine.

Another example of Bank Holidays turning people into evil shadows of their normal selves can be seen in the typical family weekend. Usually, spending two days together on a normal weekend is just enough time to make you wish that Monday would come around just that little bit quicker, sending you back to work and away from the interrogations about what you’re doing with your life and how much your job is paying you. Unfortunately, Bank Holiday weekends are that extra bit longer, so that by the time you get to Monday night you’re near suicidal and doubting everything you’ve ever hoped and dreamed about. Guns don’t kill people, Bank Holidays do.

And so, in closing, I would like to suggest that all Bank Holidays from now on be scheduled in the middle of the working week, be renamed ‘Public Holidays’, and be spent far far away from anyone who may cause your blood pressure to rise. If this cannot be accomplished, I think the least the government could do would be to designate a few dozen bottles of top quality red wine to each household within the UK for consumption every Bank Holiday weekend. That’d be sure to win Labour the next election!

I do dearly love the UK. The weather, the gardens, the football, the culture that seems somehow a part of me even though I wasn’t born here; all are reasons I keep coming back. Each time I return, however, I’m reminded of how different I am to the norm, simply because I’m Australian. We like to think we have a lot in common, us Aussies and Brits - we share a love of sports, the English language, and the Union Jack, amongst other things - but the fact is that Australians are drastically different in personality to our brothers and sisters from the Mother Country. I find this to be particularly true when you compare an Australian of my age (mid-twenties) to a Brit around the age of Rob’s parents. We seem to have opposing philosophies, and whilst I acknowledge this could be to do with age as much as culture, I can’t help but think it has a lot to do with being brought up in different countries.

Australians are reputed for being laid-back, cheerful and in favour of giving people ‘a fair go’. In general I’d have to say I think this is true, but in ways that are more subtle than you would think at first glance. At Rob’s dinner table, the conversation usually centres around politics or finance - the recession, unhappiness with the state of the Labour Party in Britain, membership in the EU, and so forth. I’m always amused when I’m asked “What is the standard mortgage rate in Australia?”, “How much do you pay for your health insurance?”, “How much tax do you pay?”, or “How much is your car insurance?” - to me, these are personal questions, and ones that I am never asked in Australia. My reaction to most statements made about such topics is to shrug, smile, and say, ‘Oh well, it won’t always be like this.’ I’d rather be talking about food, books, or the lives of family and friends. Whilst Rob’s parents seem to think it’s perfectly fine to enquire about the exact figure of my annual income, my family’s income, and our use of mortgages and credit cards, my parents would never dream of asking Rob anything remotely to do with money. They would instead be interested in how Rob’s family works - are they caring towards one another, what do they talk about around the dinner table, and are they pleasant towards me?

I’m always amazed by the treatment of customers by staff in British restaurants or stores. Coming from a retail background in Australia I expect to be served with a smile and a friendly word or two - but in the UK this is rare (particularly in London and the other bigger cities). Staff here aren’t necessarily outright rude, they just don’t seem to care one way or the other. This difference made itself particularly apparent recently, when I was coming through Immigration in Manchester. I strode up to the desk with a friendly smile and greeting, only to be responded to with a grunt. When the immigration lady decided I had been in and out of the country too often over the last few months (even though this isn’t illegal and I was 100% in the right as far as my visa was concerned) and I was thus worthy of detaining for further examination, she treated me like a criminal. I wasn’t allowed to turn my phone on to text Rob (who had already gone through immigration to get our luggage), I wasn’t allowed to explain my reasons for being in the UK so frequently, and I was cut-off several times as I answered the questions the immigration staff were asking. My luggage was torn apart and rifled through, every single piece of paper I had on me (including receipts for drinks and two magazines I’d read on the plane) was taken for further investigation, and at one stage they even wanted to confiscate my thyroid medication (which I can’t do without). Only after it was established that I was in fact genuine and telling the truth did the staff member start being polite to me, at which point she told me that her daughter was currently out in Australia back-packing. I was certain her daughter wouldn’t have been treated as rudely going through Australian Immigration as I had been trying to enter the UK - they at least would have greeted her daughter with a smile. Rob confirmed my suspicions - he’s never been treated poorly as a Brit entering Australia.

A recent article in the UK’s Sunday Times Magazine, entitled ‘What a Difference a G’Day Makes,’ analyzed the reasons that so many Brits are emigrating to Australia. Presently, 25% of all immigrants to Australia are British, and a huge portion of our tourism industry relies upon the British Pound. One of the Brits interviewed stated that she moved to Australia in part because she loves how tolerant the Australians are - she can wear flip-flops (thongs) to the office, and she believes that Australians are laid-back, free, and completely unaware of class or cultural barriers. Another interviewee said that in Australia, “You’re treated the same as everyone else, whether you’ve been here for a few weeks or 30 years. You’re not judged by your background or your accent, you’re judged by what you can do for Australia.” The final sentence of the article is the most telling - “as I watched younger Australians and British backpackers dance in the New Year and partying on the beaches of Sydney, it occurred to me that perhaps Britain had made a terrible mistake - surely they should have left the convicts at home and emigrated?” I think this article has hit the difference right on the head - in Britain, a long history of class and cultural divide has seemingly become ingrained in the national psyche. In Australia, we simply don’t care - we’ve all come from humble beginnings, whether convict or settler or immigrant - and we’re all working towards a single national future.

I find that I have to hide my Australian-ness whilst I’m in the UK, not because I’m ashamed of my accent or my attitudes, but because people really distrust my cheerfulness and laid-back approach. I’m not as worried about this as I used to be - I can’t change the UK or the people that inhabit it, nor should I want to change my own uniquely Australian personality. The secret is to understand that the differences run deep and are forged by often opposing national histories - Australia is young, optimistic, and has never been invaded or attacked to the extent the UK has. For the most part emigration to Australia is legal, whereas the UK has an open-border policy within the EU which sees hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world pour in to the country each year. Far from being bogged down by year upon year of tradition and structure, Australia seems to change readily with the times, whilst in the UK any changes are made much more slowly. I think the only thing that really surprises me about the relationship between Australia and the UK is the fact that Britain was responsible for the formation of my home country - which would imply that some of our youthful optimism and exuberance must have come from our parent nation. I’m yet to come across such emotions in the UK - and believe me, I’ve been looking.

I’d be really interested to hear from any other Australian-British expats - is it just me that feels this way about the relationship between our two nations?