About the Blog


FROM THE WRITER

I never planned to live in England, find my missing puzzle piece in the form of a kind-hearted British guy, nor even start this story. It just happened... with 15 years of a destiny bread crumb trail later identified in hindsight.

With my kitty Pickles Barrington in tow, I was beginning a new life chapter with a once-in-lifetime adventure in the United Kingdom at the end of 2019. For six months in preparation, I worked, saved, and sold off most of my possessions for my sabbatical across the pond. I kept some furniture and other essentials to get a new apartment sorted when I returned, but unbeknownst to me, destiny had other plans.

Since 2005, England has always been my happy place to visit (you can read that story here), and through my wedding industry career, the internet has given me friends all around the globe. The UK was no exception, so I just didn't think that I would actually meet anyone new on my trip. Well, move over, Hollywood rom-coms, because I did meet someone.

Robert, affectionately known as Mr. B, won me over with a story of saving a baby lamb's life and Christmas socks worn in February, I won him over with American strawberry shortcake and colorful personality quirks, and the rest is history... until COVID-19 busted through 2020 like a seagull stealing your french fries (or, more apropos, chunky chips) at the beach.

Our relationship accelerated rather quickly when I had to leave my AirBnb in Hove earlier than expected because of my host having to return home from overseas. We must have been psychic, really. One week before the UK government's first national lockdown happened, being the ever wonderful gentleman that he is, Mr. B insisted Pickles and I move into his flat until my return flight to Virginia. 


By this time, we already knew we were each other's happily ever afters, and COVID-19 gave us the gift of an unexpected timeline of over 15 weeks in lockdown together. We didn't know what this coronavirus would bring next, but I returned to the States when my extended visit visa expired.

In the spirit of pandemic uncertainty, we began the steps to taking control of our future in the best way we knew how in the era of COVID: officially get engaged in Bermuda, one of the only countries that would have an American and Englishman together in the same place during pandemic times (thanks, copious travel bans), and apply for a UK fiancée visa so we would never have to be separated again regardless of come what may. (Plan an English garden wedding in total global chaos? Sure, why not!) 

Thankfully, UK Immigration approved my application rather quickly because England would go into its second COVID-related national lockdown... which sped up my move to the UK before I could even blink twice. After anxiety galore, boxes shipped, attempts to tie up logistical ends of moving to another country, and acceptance that not everything could be done without a follow-up trip back to Virginia in the future, I am now home with Mr. B and Pickles.

The story doesn't end here though. I have only caught you up. It's just the beginning.


(Beyond these personal tidbits and if you have a fancy to see how I got here professionally, you can get to know me more on my career portfolio website: www.chelsealavere.com)

 

BEHIND THE BLOG NAME 

Biscuits: creating transatlantic division between American and British tastebuds since forever. One a soft, flaky pastry traditionally smothered in butter and gravy. The other a sweet, crunchy treat that comes in all shapes and flavors.

I grew up in Virginia, so the fluffy American-style biscuit is a staple at get-togethers, restaurants, fast food joints, and anywhere else food is present. It's a sacred thing one dare not forget. However, in an attempt to not get banned by my fellow Southerners for this blasphemous statement, I boldly announce that I could just as well live my life without the flaky biscuit. Having Celiac Disease kinda does that to you, therefore, I accept my new fate as a hard biscuit-adopting transplant in ole Blighty.

And as for the word choice of the name, who doesn’t love a story about a spunky, cheerful American girl who finds her happily ever after alongside her four-legged animal sidekick? The sun will always come out tomorrow after all.

- Chelsea LaVere Barton

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